


you're in ruins

by makethingsfunny



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Military, Amputation, Character Death, Depression, Disability, F/F, F/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Permanent Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:13:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 51,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4209240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makethingsfunny/pseuds/makethingsfunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He’s never believed in angels, but he thinks she probably is one. It's the only possible explanation.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"Kirsch," he corrects her, coughing. “It’s Kirsch. Am I dead?”</i>
</p>
<p>or: the one where Kirsch finds out that losing a leg isn't all bad when your nurse is Danny Lawrence</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. coming apart at the seams

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this fic primarily on the fact that Matt O'Connor looks alarmingly like a character named Tunny in the musical American Idiot, and this fic is inspired by that particular plot. I put all of those tags in as a warning mostly for anyone who might be triggered by such things, but there will still be plenty of fluff it's gonna be great.
> 
> The title is from "21 Guns" by Green Day and the chapter title is from "A Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes" by Fall Out Boy. A thousand thank yous to my beta [chiltongirlsdoitbetter](http://chiltongirlsdoitbetter.tumblr.com/) for following me down this rabbit hole.

For his entire life, Wilson Kirsch has been stuck in a rut. He was born into it, his childhood home was a pit that he’d tried to crawl out of since infancy. It wasn’t his mom’s fault, not really. She had always done everything she could for him. He probably could blame his dad, but that was never going to do him any good either. Still, it was easy enough to hate a guy who hadn’t bothered to show his face in ten years.

The easy choice is to blame the world. To shake his fist at the sky and bang his head against a wall until it crumbles. For a long time, that was what he did. He sucked at school, so it was the system’s fault. He broke his collarbone his senior year, effectively killing his last football season. All his plans for scholarships and college went up in smoke the night they carried him off the field on a gurney. He didn’t have money for college after graduation, and that was the world’s fault. Or the institution’s fault. Maybe it was the fault of the kid who rammed his helmet into his collarbone.

Ever since graduation, he’s been stuck at home. He pushes carts at the local grocery store for minimum wage and every day after work all he does is go home and numb his mind by playing video games until he passes out. It’s not his ideal life, far from it. He barely feels like he’s hanging on.

The last straw comes when he runs into his ex-girlfriend in the middle of the parking lot one day.

“Kirsch?”

The voice comes from over his shoulder and he whips around to meet familiar brown eyes. Sarah Jane. She’s smiling at him and all he can think about is the fact that she’s as pretty as ever. Their breakup hadn’t been a bad one and they were still friendly with each other, but Kirsch can’t help but feel incredibly awkward.

“Oh my god, Sarah Jane!” he exclaims, putting on a smile of his own as she rushes over to him. He wishes she wouldn’t, this is the last place he would have wanted to run into her.

“God, what have you been up to?” she asks, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug.

“Oh,” he laughs, trying to be casual. He pulls away from her, hoping he doesn’t smell all that bad, but he’s been out in the sun all day. He knows he’s not looking his best as the bright orange vest they force him to wear isn’t exactly flattering. Not that it should even matter that much because she’s his ex. It’s not like they’re gonna start dating again. It’s still embarrassing. “Just… You know, working and stuff. What about you?”

“I’m home for the summer!” she tells him, smiling brightly at him. She probably doesn’t even realize how strange this is for him.

“Oh, that’s right!” Kirsch replies, nodding. He folds his arms over his chest awkwardly. “Pre-med, right?”

Sarah Jane nods, smiling. He can tell she’s proud of herself, and honestly, she has a right to be. “At USC, yeah. It’s pretty exciting.”

“God, that’s… That’s so great for you,” he tells her, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. He and Sarah Jane had been good together, but it was like they were from entirely different ends of the earth. That’s more true now than it had ever been.

“Yeah, we’re all pretty stoked about it. I mean, it’s stressful, but… I’m sure you know how that is,” she replies.

Kirsch blinks, nodding vigorously. It’s such an offhand comment that he’s sure she wasn’t really thinking about how it would sound to him. She’s so sure that he must also be bogged down in school or a project or _something._ Because that’s what life is after high school, right? There are places to go, things to see. Reasons not to be stuck at home playing video games every day.

“Yeah, _totally,”_ he agrees, almost too late. He clears his throat, trying to think of something—anything—to get him out of here. “I, um. I should really get back to work. Carts to push, y’know.”

“Right! Of course, I’ll let you get back,” Sarah Jane agrees, nodding. Kirsch isn’t sure if she realizes just how badly he wants to get out of there. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He nods as he backs away, hoping to find a rock he can climb under. “Yeah, of course! I’ll call you!”

He’s not going to call her. It suddenly dawns on him that she’s not the only one who will be home for the summer, either. There will be tons of people from high school who would be coming back home in droves, wanting to hang out or go party, many of whom would come upon him while he’s at work. Sarah Jane isn’t going to be the only person to see him like this. Kirsch might not know much, but he knows he doesn’t want that.

He can’t get stuck here.

The military was never a place he thought he would end up. Of course, the dream had been to play football, but that went up in flames on an unseasonably warm November night and he never had a back up plan. Which, yeah, was stupid of him, but he knows he doesn’t want to be a bum on his mom’s couch for the rest of his life. Plus, the army recruiter gave him a lot to think about. He goes home with his pockets stuffed full of pamphlets and promises that he could make something of himself. He could have purpose. Despite his mother’s warnings, he signs up to “pursue a future in the military” not two days later.

Maybe it's easy to blame the universe, but he's done blaming someone else. It's time for him to do something with himself.

 

* * *

 

After ten weeks of basic training _hell,_ Krisch sets foot on Iraqi soil.

One of the other soldiers leads him to the barracks that he’ll be calling home for the next few weeks, announcing themselves as they wander in. “Hey boys, we got ourselves a rainbow!”

Kirsch waves at the other soldiers, his platoon-mates, awkwardly. ‘Rainbow’ is a term for a new recruit and it’s one that he’s heard plenty of times since entering basic training. He had hoped that would end now that he was really out in the field, but apparently he still has to wait a little longer before that particular nickname drops. This is like being the new kid on the first day of school, only a hell of a lot scarier.

“You alright there, greenie?” one of the soldiers calls, barely looking up from a magazine he has in his lap. “You look like you might be sick.”

“What? No, I’m–”

One of the other soldiers, a smaller man with black hair and dark features, rolls his eyes and throws a pillow at the first soldier. “Leave him alone, Dawson.”

Dawson laughs and shoots the pillow back. “Coming to his rescue already, Luce? Aren’t you a grade-A knight in shining armor.”

“Better that than an oxygen thief like yourself,” the soldier bites back, getting up from his bed to greet Kirsch. He extends a hand, which Kirsch takes. “Private William Luce. Don’t mind Dawson, he’s an asshole.”

Kirsh glances to Dawson who just shrugs and goes back to his reading.

“C’mon, your bunk is over here,” Will says, nodding toward the back, where his own bunk was.

“Thanks,” he replies, giving an appreciative smile. He doesn’t want to seem like a pushover, but it’s still nice that at least Will seems to be friendly. He could use a friend, especially when he starts to think about the fact that he will probably get into some extremely fucked up situations while he’s out here. “I’m Kirsch, by the way.”

“Just Kirsch?”

Krisch makes a face and shrugs. “...Yeah, just Kirsch.”

Will returns his shrug. “Kirsch. Welcome home, trenchmonkey.”

 

* * *

 

Kirsch has always had friends, but they had always just been buddies. The guys he played football with, or the people he got drunk with on weekends. He’s not sure if he can actually say any of them were really close to him, though. It’s different, in the desert.

There’s something about sharing almost every minute of every day with other people. The guys in his platoon aren’t all his friends, but they trust each other. They have each other’s lives in their hands. So when you genuinely like someone on top of that, there’s not a lot that can shake that bond.

The fact that Private Luce might be the best friend he’s ever had hits him hard in the chest like a brick, one day. Mail comes in periodically, but it’s rare enough that when he actually gets something it kind of feels like Christmas. The only person that really writes him is his mom, and he’s not ungrateful to have that. His old high school buddies are too busy with their own lives to give him much thought and his mom is the only real family he has. She sends him care packages sometimes, but mostly letters. Will mostly gets letters, too, but this time he actually gets a pretty big package himself. It’s full of candy that they can’t get in Iraq and, shockingly enough, a tin full of home-baked cookies.

 _“Bro,_ who sent you those?” Kirsch asks, crowding around Will and the tin almost as soon as the lid is off. Just the smell alone is enough to make him salivate. Baked goods are scarce, and soldiers usually open up a package from home only to find that the cookies have gotten stale or have crumbled. Whoever packed these for Will had been careful about it.

“It’s from my sister,” Will explains, looking just as shocked as Kirsch. He reaches for the letter and opens it up so he can read it.

“Dude, I thought you said your sister doesn’t do care packages or sappy crap like that.”

“She _doesn’t.”_ Kirsch watches as he reads the letter, still hovering over the tin of peanut butter cookies. Will raises his eyebrows as he reaches the end, realization dawning on him. “The cookies are from her girlfriend. I’ve only met her a few times, though. I guess they’re moving in together.”

“Well, whoever this chick is, tell your sister to keep her. This is obviously someone who needs to stick around.”

Will raises one eyebrow at Kirsch, a smirk on his lips. “Oh, you think? You didn’t want some, did you?”

Kirsch has the decency to look a little sheepish. Still, he’s only human, and peanut butter cookies are totally his favorite. “Well…”

“I’m messing with you, dude,” Will laughs, shoving him. “Of course you can have some.”

His face lights up and he almost doesn’t know what to say. Will would be completely within his right to hoard precious baked goods from home. He wouldn’t be the first. “Really?”

“Yeah, dude, it’s no big deal,” Will assures him. He takes out a few of the cookies and holds them out to Kirsch. “It’s just cookies.”

It’s so not just cookies, though. This is a piece of home, and Will is sharing that with him. He looks down at the cookies like Will had just presented him with a million dollars. _“Bro.”_

“Fuck, don’t make it weird okay?” Will scrunches his nose and shoves the cookies at Kirsch. “Just don’t run your mouth off to the others.”

Kirsch grins and takes the cookies, biting into one. They’re like _heaven._ They aren’t even stale, despite the fact that they’d probably been in the mail almost two weeks. “Thanks, man. And tell your sister and her girlfriend I said thanks too.”

Will rolls his eyes, biting into a cookie himself. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll tell them about what a jackass you are.”

“That’s fair,” Kirsch grins, taking his time with the precious few cookies he has. Yeah, he’s pretty sure that Will Luce is his best friend.

 

* * *

 

Krisch jerks awake as someone knocks his boots off the table he’s propped them up on.

“Rise and shine, asshole,” Will announces as he rushes past to crouch by his bunk.

“Dude.” Kirsch protests, planting both feet on the ground again. He’d been trying to catch a little extra shuteye, a rare privilege when you’re overseas in the army. He reaches up to rub his eyes, trying to shake the sleep out of his head. “Not cool. What gives?”

“They want our boots on the ground. There’s something going down in the city and we’re supposed to go check it out,” Will explains, already pulling on his gear. He kicks at Kirsch’s chair again. “C’mon bro, Straka wants us out there in five.”

Kirsch releases a huff and gets up from the chair he’d been napping in, going to his bunk to grab his gear. Gearing up in minimal time was an art form that a soldier perfected in basic. Or at least, they did if they didn’t want their ass handed to them every day. Luckily, Kirsch was among those that had been able to master that particular skill.

“So they didn’t tell you anything?” Kirsch asks as he pulls on the jacket of his fatigues.

Will shakes his head, already strapping on his bullet-proof vest. It doesn’t protect against everything out there, but every soldier knew someone whose life had been saved by their gear. “Straka said he’d brief us on the way.”

Kirsh releases a huff, grabbing his helmet so they can go meet the rest of the platoon. He doesn’t like going into these things blind, but hopefully Straka would have more information for them before they wandered into some wolf’s den. “Let’s not keep our dates waiting, then.”

 

* * *

 

The mission brief leaves much to be desired and Kirsch wishes he was surprised. All they really know is that there’s word of a group of insurgents hiding out in one of the buildings. They don’t know how many and they don’t know if they’re armed. The situation is murky at best, and it leaves a bad taste in Kirsch’s mouth.

“Kirsch! Eyes up,” Lieutenant Straka barks at him from the front passenger seat of their transport.

Kirsch immediately snaps to attention, his eyes on the officer in front of him. “Sir.”

“I want you and Luce together. We’re going to do a sweep of the building first. All we know right now is that there are potential hostiles, so keep your eyes up and be careful. Don't take unnecessary risks."

Kirsch nods in affirmative, sending a glance to Will. He understands his role, here. There was a lot less charging in with guns blazing involved with a typical mission than a person might think if all they knew about the military was Call of Duty. (Kirsch is more than okay with that.)

"After the initial sweep we'll regroup and make a plan," Straka tells them. He's a good lieutenant, and Kirsch is happy enough in his platoon. He also knows that if Straka tells him something, he's much better off following orders. "If everything goes to spec we'll be in and out and home in time for dinner. So ruck up and do this fast and clean, alright?"

"Yes, sir," Kirsch and Will both agree.

Straka turns to look out the window as they start their approach. They'd get out well before reaching the building and take the rest of the way on foot. Straka would head their team and they'd split off into pairs while another team would enter the building from the back and do the same. As long as they were quiet and kept their noses clean, they’d be able to wrap everything up and get out before they could run into any real trouble.

Once they hit the drop-off, their team exits the vehicle and moves in on the building. They move quietly, keeping to the shadows as much as they can. They aren't a dedicated stealth team, but they still know the value of keeping their heads down. When they reach the front entrance, Straka holds them until they're sure the other team has reached the back, and then gives the signal to move indoors. Inside, they split off. Straka and his man go left, while Will and Kirsch take the right side.

The building is old and abandoned. It looks like it might have been a hotel at one point, maybe even a nice one, but now it looks as though its only tenants are rats. With any luck, rats will be all they find, but Kirsch isn't counting on it. Something about this mission smelled fishy from the start.

Kirsch leads them through each room, moving in front while Will watches their six. It's Kirsch’s job to keep his eyes up, and it's his job to be alert of what lies ahead of them in each new room. So when he doesn't see it, when he doesn't even know it's there until it's too late, it's his fault.

It's shoved up against the wall, behind a chair, in a tangle of wires and dirty canisters. He should have seen it sooner. Even as he's reaching for the next door, it clicks in his mind: a bomb. An IED. _Improvised explosive device._

"Kirsch, _don't–!”_

He hears Will shouting, but everything feels like it's moving in slow motion, like he's moving through jelly. His hand is on the doorknob already and he wants to stop, but it's too late. The latch releases and the trip-wire attached to it springs forth. There's nothing Kirsch can do.

Will is already pushing him away before Kirsch hears it go off. He's on the ground behind a table and Will's body is on top of his, shielding him from the blast when the world turns to fire and brimstone.

 

* * *

 

Everything is white.

No, that's not quite right. It's dark behind his eyelids, but he can tell there's a bright light ahead of him. Too bright. He doesn't want to open his eyes.

This must be what dying is like.

It feels a lot like being alive, he realizes. He doesn't really feel different. In fact, it hurts more than he thought it would. The more he thinks about it, the more he can feel a raw spike of pain at his temple and every nerve in his body screaming like it's on fire. His left leg in particular feels as though someone has stuck him with a thousand needles and left them in to burn. Which, that really isn't fair. He always thought dying would mean an end to feeling pain.

Someone is saying something. He can't quite make it out, but they seem concerned. He really wishes they would just leave him alone, they're making his headache worse.

"He's waking up, go get Dr. Spielsdorf." This time the words are clearer, urgent even. It still sounds like it's coming from far away, though. Or maybe like it's from underwater. He doesn't want to wake up. The light is too bright and he wants nothing more than to slip back into the darkness. He groans in protest.

"Wilson," comes the same voice again. He thinks he can feel a hand on his shoulder. It stings a little. "If you can hear me, I need you to focus on my voice. Listen to me. My name is Danny Lawrence and I'm your nurse. I'm here to help you."

Kirsch furrows his brows, letting another groan out in answer. The pain in his leg is getting worse and the light is getting brighter. His nurse? Why would he need a nurse if he's dead?

"That's it, come back," the voice continues, coaxing him back into consciousness. The voice is warm, even welcoming. It's a nice voice. "Open your eyes."

He does as he's told, despite the bright lights. He squints up at the owner of the voice, a woman with red hair and the bluest eyes he's ever seen. He’s never believed in angels, but he thinks she probably is one. It's the only possible explanation.

"Kirsch," he corrects her, coughing. “It’s Kirsch. Am I dead?”

He knows he must be. Still, he looks to her for confirmation.

His angel smiles and shakes her head. "Not yet, Kirsch," she tells him. She releases his shoulder, but still stays in his line of vision. He thinks he sees her look up to check something before returning to lock eyes with him. He can see her clearer now, and sees that her skin is dusted in freckles. Like stars. "It was touch and go there for awhile, but you are very much alive."

_Alive._

It doesn't make sense. He can remember the IED, now. He should be dead. He tries to tell her so, but his eyelids start drooping again. The light is still too bright, and he sinks back into the safety of darkness, where things make sense.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up again, later. At least, he assumes it's later. This time, when he opens his eyes he can make out the medical equipment surrounding his bed and the faint beep from the heart monitor next to him. His leg, which still feels like it’s on fire, is bandaged and elevated. The angel—his nurse—is there again, jotting something down in a file.

"Where am I?" he croaks. His throat feels like sandpaper.

Her eyes snap up to him, startled. He didn't mean to surprise her.

"You're awake again," she says. She closes the file folder and slides it back into the slot at the end of his bed. "You're in a U.S. military hospital in Frankfurt, Germany. You've been unconscious for almost two weeks. We’ve had you under a medically induced coma while you stabilized."

Two weeks. He can hardly believe it.

Her voice still sounds like he's listening to her from one room over. He can make out what she's saying, but he has to concentrate. His vision seems to be sharper than it was before, but it's still hard to hear her clearly.

"I can't hear you very well," he tells her, shaking his head. The sudden throbbing in his skull makes him immediately regret doing that.

She furrows her brows and comes to stand next to him. She cradles his head in her hands and tilts his ear up to her so she can look at it more closely.

"I'll let Dr. Spielsdorf know. We were afraid of that," she replies. She lets go of him and he instantly misses her touch. For a moment, he had felt grounded with her hands on his skin. "I'll send for her and she can fill you in on everything."

Right, the bomb. Kirsch starts to get a sick feeling in his stomach.

He reaches out to her, desperately clutching onto her wrist before she can leave. Before anything else, he needs to know. "Where's Will? The soldier who was with me, where is he?"

The nurse—Danny—stops in her tracks and stares down at him. He watches as her jaw sets, though her eyes soften. She gives her head one small shake. "I'm sorry, Kirsch. Private Luce is dead."

 


	2. you were a fire caught in a storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I already had most of this chapter written by the time I put up the first chapter, and I didn't want to wait to put this one up either! It'll probably be a little longer before the third chapter is up, but I'm so flattered by all the positive feedback I've gotten! Thanks for reading!
> 
> The chapter title for this is from "Don't Wake Me Up" by The Hush Sound. As always, thank you to my lovely beta, chiltongirlsdoitbetter!

Kirsch is lucky to be alive. That's what they tell him. Kirsch isn't sure he agrees.

The doctor had given him a rundown of what had happened and the damage his body had taken. Even though it had been a small IED, it had done a number on him. If Will hadn't pushed him behind cover and thrown himself on top of him, he'd be dead. Straka and the rest of the platoon had pulled him out of the building, and once they were sure he was stable, he'd been flown out of Iraq to a base in Germany to receive proper medical care.

As it is, he has heavy burns on most of the left side of his body and his leg had been hit with a good amount of shrapnel. Even with the steady stream of pain medication they have him on, he can feel it throbbing underneath his bandages. He knows it can't be pretty.

There's also indication that he may possibly have some permanent damage to his hearing. While his right ear seems to be getting a little better, it’s still hard to hear from his left. The doctor told him they’ll take more x-rays, that they’ll do what they can.

Either way, it's clear that Kirsch needs to start coming to terms with the fact that his life will be different.

He tries not to think about Will, at least as much as he can. Guilt eats him up inside, but he still hasn't been able to wrap his head completely around it. It doesn't feel real.

He stops Danny whenever she comes to check on him. He's started to learn her shift, and he looks forward to when he sees her face in the morning. He's sure she finds him to be a nuisance, but it's something to grasp onto.

Plus, he's determined to get her to crack a smile every time he sees her.

"Danny, is that perfume I smell?" he asks, his lips splitting into a lazy grin. It’s hard to be all that alert when they’ve got him on a dozen or so meds (none of which he knows how to pronounce).

She rolls her eyes at him, as predictable as ever. "I didn't realize perfume was forbidden, Kirsch."

"Oh, it's allowed," he tells her, playing innocent. "But I coulda told you that there's no need to bother. You know my heart already belongs to Elsie."

Elsie, one of the other nurses, is incredibly grouchy and complains a great deal of the time. Her bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired and the idea that Kirsch could be in love with her is laughable. He catches a small twitch at the corner of Danny's lips and he congratulates himself on the small victory.

"I'll be sure to offer her my condolences later," Danny replies coolly, her face completely void of any amusement she may have felt. "How are you feeling?"

Kirsch heaves a big sigh and rolls his eyes. He knows that she has to ask, but there are only so many times that he can tell them that he feels like shit before repeating himself starts to get annoying.

"I don't know, have you got any sharp objects for me today?" he asks, nonchalant as ever. It's weird how easily darkness seems to have settled on him. He had never been one to mope, even when things were at their worst. He'd get angry, sure, but depression had never been part of his vocabulary. Here, however, he doesn't have anything he can fight. All he can do is sit and stew. Humor is the only way he knows how to combat that.

Danny levels him with a look that tells him she isn't laughing, though. "Kirsch."

He looks away from her, releasing a small huff. He hates this conversation. "I feel like I'm trapped and I've got a headache the size of Texas. Is that better?"

"Better," she agrees, writing down a few notes in his file. "How's your hearing?"

"Still shitty on the left side."

She nods again and makes another note. "And the leg?"

"Can't feel a thing except that it hurts like hell. Pins and needles."

"We'll give you another dose of morphine," she tells him as she finishes up her notes. "And I'll come check on you on my next rounds. Do you need anything else?"

"Yeah, what's a guy gotta do for a little company around here?" He knows he's being obnoxious, but it's a game he can't quit playing. She's like fire, and he always liked playing with matches.

"Say no more," she tells him, a smirk finally gracing her lips. Its barely anything, but he'll take it. "I'll let Elsie know you miss her."

 

* * *

 

Three days later, he manages to convince Danny to spend her break playing cards with him.

To be fair, he’s sure the only reason she agreed is because Kirsch has picked up on her competitive streak. It didn’t take many boasts that he could take her easily even while on a steady concoction of pain meds before she was tracking down a pack of cards just so she could prove a point. Kirsch doesn’t really care what her reasons are, he’s just happy to have someone tolerable spending time with him.

“So… Where are you from?” Kirsch asks as he deals out a hand of cards to both of them. The rest go in the middle.

Danny raises an eyebrow as she picks up her cards and starts re-ordering them. “Is that your idea of small talk?”

“Well,” he replies, looking up to send her an annoyed look. _“Yeah._ I didn’t know small-talk was so offensive to you.”

“It’s not,” she protests, rolling her eyes. She draws a card from the top, adding it to her hand before discarding another. “It’s just pretty cliche don’t you think?”

“Hey, cliches are cliches for a reason, aren’t they?” he points out, drawing a card of his own.

“That doesn’t mean they’re _good.”_

“You still haven’t answered me.”

Danny sighs. “I’m from all over. I’m an army brat so I moved around a lot until my dad retired. My parents live in D.C. now, so I guess you can say I’m from there.”

Kirsch raises his eyebrows. “Is that why you joined the army nurse corp?”

She shrugs and picks up half of the discard pile, using the ten of spades she picked up to lay down a run of three. “I suppose. It was a place to go and the military is familiar.”

He nods, furrowing his brows a little. “If your dad lives in D.C. he must be a pretty big deal.”

“He still gets invited to all those fancy galas, if that’s what you’re asking,” she replies with a smirk. “I mean, he’s just my dad, though. It doesn’t really matter how many times he’s met the president.”

“Uh, chyeah, okay,” Kirsch tells her, sarcastic. “That’s not a big deal at all.”

“Please, plenty of people meet the president. It’s really not worth getting worked up over.”

“Yeah _sure,”_ he says, rolling his eyes. He picks up the four of diamonds on top of the discard pile, laying down three of a kind.

“Well what about you?” she asks, peering at him over her cards. “Why the army?”

It’s Kirsch’s turn to shrug and give some kind of bullshit answer. “Like you said, it was somewhere to go.”

When he looks up again, Danny’s eyes meet his. There’s something behind them, but it’s not pity. Empathy, maybe. Like she understands. Maybe Danny Lawrence knows exactly what he means by that.

“Yeah,” she replies finally, nodding.

Just as he’s about to lay down another run, one of the other nurses comes to check on him. It’s Mel, who is nice enough, if a little blunt. He gives her a small smile and sits up a little straighter.

“Good afternoon, Kirsch,” she announces as she sweeps into the room, picking up his file. “And Danny. Are you on break?”

“Oh, yeah,” she replies, looking a little shy about being caught in here on her break. “Kirsch was pretty insistent.”

“I just told her that she couldn’t beat me at cards,” he points out, smirking.

“Yeah, like eight times before I finally caved.”

“And who’s winning?”

“The game isn’t over yet,” she points out, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I’m glad Danny has been able to put you in such good spirits, Kirsch,” Mel says, raising her eyebrows a little. She sends Danny a sidelong glance.

Danny shakes her head, lifting a hand up to gesture between herself and Kirsch. “Oh, we’re not- It’s just cards.”

_“Ouch.”_ Kirsch clutches his chest, feigning offense.

“Not helping.”

“It’s fine, Danny,” Mel assures her, a knowing smile on her face. She puts Kirsch’s file back and adjusts something on one of the machines next to him. “I won’t tell on you and I’ll be out of your hair. Just have fun with your cards.”

“Mel, it’s…”

“See you when you get back on the clock?”

Danny looks like she wants to say more, but just nods at Mel as she disappears again, leaving Kirsch to stare at her with in confusion.

“What was that?”

Danny shoots him a glare. “What was _what?”_

Kirsch shrugs, looking at his cards. “There was just… Tension.”

“It’s nothing,” she huffs, clearly still bothered. “She just probably thinks I’m straight now.”

Kirsch’s eyes snap up to her face and he feels his stomach sink. He can’t believe he was being so stupid. Here he was flirting up a storm when she didn’t remotely want anything like _that_ from him . “... Oh.”

“Yeah, but I mean...” Danny shakes her head, pressing her lips thin. “I shouldn’t be dating other nurses anyway. This isn’t Grey’s Anatomy.”

“Yeah, that’s probably true,” he agrees, clearing his throat. He pauses, looking up at her. He still likes Danny, he knows that. This doesn’t change how he feels about her in the slightest, but maybe he should’ve been more aware of boundaries in the first place. He’s always been pretty bad about that kind of stuff. “But if you ask me, I think she seemed kind of into you.”

Danny raises her eyebrows. “Are you gonna be my wingman now?”

“Sure,” Kirsch laughs. “If you need one.”

She sends him a smile, shaking her head. “Alright.”

He lays down the last of his cards, smiling at her smugly. They can be friends. He’s cool with that. “What were you saying about beating me, Lawrence?”

 

* * *

 

Being friends with Danny is great. Or at least, it’s great when he doesn’t think about the fact that the only reason he can even call her a friend is because he can count the number of people he sees regularly on both hands. He tries not to think about the fact that she might only be his friend because she’s trying to be nice to him. He has to remember that she’s still his nurse.

(But cards become a regular thing.)

He also tries not to think about how attracted to her he still is.

As next few days pass, he knows his leg isn’t getting better. His fevers are worse and so is the pain. The nurses talk to his doctor in hushed tones and he’s not stupid enough to miss the worried look in their eyes whenever they come to check his bandages.

Sleeping is getting harder, too. His leg has been elevated for so long that sometimes he’s not sure he can even really feel it anymore. It just feels like a mass of pain and agony protruding from his left side.

When he does sleep, he dreams. He wishes he wouldn’t. His dreams are usually filled with the faces of the other soldiers he served with. Will is almost always there.

_“You should have seen it,”_ Will tells him every night. Tonight they’re standing in the middle of a desert with nothing but sand surrounding them. It’s dark out and stars peek through the clouds like light shining through a woven blanket.

“I’m sorry!” Kirsch yells, reaching out for his friend. He wants to desperately for Will to know that he wishes he could change what happened. He wishes he could go back in time and fix it so that Will was still alive. He wishes he could touch him now, but as soon as his hand meets Will’s shoulder, fire erupts from his fingers and burns across Will’s skin, leaving behind angry red welts and ash in its wake.

“It should have been you.” Will’s eyes are dark and hollow as they stare back at him. It’s the only thing that Kirsch can hold onto.

Just as Kirsch tries to grab Will with his other hand, he turns to dust and blows away in the wind. Behind him stands Danny, her pale skin glowing under the light of the moon. She tilts her head at Kirsch, her eyes piercing.

“You’re shaking. Are you cold?” she asks him.

He didn’t realize it at first, but he is shivering. The night air is cold on his skin and he doesn’t know how she isn’t freezing, herself. She practically isn’t wearing anything, only a light satin shift to cover her torso.  His mouth goes dry when he  sees she isn’t wearing anything else underneath.

He swallows a lump in his throat and turns his gaze back to meet her eyes instead. He can’t think about what’s under her dress.

“I… I _am_ cold. I think.” He’s still reaching out, from when it was Will in front of him instead.

Her face immediately lights up with a grin and she reaches to take his outstretched hand. “Silly, you shouldn’t be out at night dressed like that. You’ll catch your death. Come on.”

She tugs at his hand and he follows her, looking down at his own body. She’s right, he’s not dressed much more warmly than her. He isn’t even wearing a shirt. Funnily enough, his burns have all seemed to disappear.

“Where are we going?” he asks, deciding he obviously shouldn’t be worried about clothes right now. She didn’t seem to care, after all.

“You’ll see. It’s beautiful.”

They continue to pick their way across the desert, over dunes and sand until they’re greeted by stone pillars and large steps. It’s like the building had grown up out of the ground itself, as ancient as the desert surrounding it. Danny turns to catch his eye as she leads him up the steps, smiling at him. She has never smiled at him like this before, like she knows something he doesn’t.

At the top, they find an impossibly clear pool laid out before them. The water is the bluest Kirsch has ever seen and a glow of light radiates from its depths. His eyes widen a little as he stares into it, only tearing his gaze away to look at her again. She offers him another smile and squeezes his hand. He smiles back.

“Come on,” she tells him again. She pulls her hand away, instead reaching pull the shift up and over her head.

His eyes widen as he watches her, her skin gleaming in the moonlight. He hadn’t been expecting that at all and he’s left glued to the ground while she dives into the pool. He blinks at her as she resurfaces, stunned.

“Kirsch, come on!” she laughs, waving him in. She holds her hand out to him, reaching. “You’re not gonna make me ask you again, are you?”

That gets his attention. He snaps out of the trance she had on him and he shakes his head. He immediately reaches for the waistband of his pants and starts tugging them off his hips. “No ma'am. You definitely don’t need to ask me again.”

Danny laughs again and it sounds like music as it echos across the water and to the other side of the room. She doesn’t hide her gaze, instead locking her eyes onto him until he’s out of his clothes and diving into the water after her.

He gasps for breath as he breaks through the surface again, appearing next to her. He swims closer and gives her a lopsided grin. “Happy?”

“Mm, I think we’re getting there.”

Kirsch rolls his eyes and reaches for her, one hand landing on her waist to pull her closer. Already, he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. “Why’d you bring me here, Danny?”

She has a small smile on her lips, the corners turned up as she stalls. Her eyes dart from his lips back to his eyes and she tilts her chin upward just a little. She doesn’t seem to be shy about being so close to him. If anything, he thinks she might be pulling a little closer. “I thought you might like the water. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

The water is nice. He doesn’t feel cold anymore, but it’s also not too warm. He feels like he could probably just float here for hours, especially if she’s willing to keep him company. He leans forward a little, just enough to brush his nose against hers and a thrill runs up his spine when he hears her breath catch.

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

She reaches up to hold his face in her hands and Kirsch closes his eyes for a moment, leaning into her touch. He feels like he hasn’t felt human contact like this in ages.

When he opens his eyes again, her eyes are on his, piercing right through any walls he may still have had up. For a moment, all he can hear is his own heartbeat and the water lapping at the edges of the pool. They pause only for a breath, barely a beat, before she pulls him in and presses hungry lips to his.

Kirsch doesn’t hesitate. He catches her kisses and feeds her more of his own. His arms wrap around her bare waist and he pushes her back, toward the edge of the pool. The kiss is all gasps and breathy moans and she’s licking past his teeth just as her back hits the stone wall behind them. She breaks to catch her breath, her hand holding his chin as he struggles to come back to his senses.

Danny stares at him, barely giving him any time to regain composure before she’s leaning in again. This time she uses her teeth, biting down on his lip and pressing close. He tries to keep up with her, but she’s already turning him around, reversing their positions and pinning him to the side of the pool. She has one of his wrists flat against the wall while she lets his other hand clutch harder to her waist.

They’re breathless again, their legs tangled and her hips held flush to his. He watches as she grins again, triumphant.

“Knock knock,” she breathes.

He blinks at her, confused. “What?”

“Knock knock,” she repeats, dropping her smile. She tilts her head at him politely and he furrows his brows back at her.

His eyes snap open and he finds her at the door to his room, poking her head inside.

“Rise and shine, Kirsch,” Danny tells him, looking at him expectantly. She pushes past the door and closes it behind her. “Come on, it’s time to wake up.”

Kirsch has to blink at her several times before he understands that she’s actually real. She’s not a dream, not some beautiful phantom sent to torment him. He immediately tries to sit up straighter, feeling a tug at his navel. His body is drenched in a cold sweat and he feels dizzy, so he lays his head back against the bed again. “Danny, what… What are you doing?”

“You need to bathe, you’re getting ripe,” she tells him, hardly paying attention to him as she goes to fill up the basin that she’s carrying with water.

He barely even has time to understand what’s happening. He glances down at his lap and his eyes widen at the current situation of it. This can’t be happening. Not with her there, not now. She can’t see him like this.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. Again, he has to lay his head back against the bed to keep it from spinning. He tries to shift, to sit up and pull the blankets up higher on his waist. Anything to try and hide it. “No, you need to leave.”

She turns to frown at him, her brows furrowed. “What? Kirsch, we need to bathe you, you can’t–”

“I said _get out!”_ He’s yelling now, red in the face. He hasn’t yelled once since waking up in Germany. The walls are thin enough that he has heard other patients yelling, but he has never been among them.

Her mouth opens, like she’s going to say something, but she stops. Her eyes flick over his lap and Kirsch shifts uncomfortably, trying to adjust the blankets.

“Please, just leave.”

“Kirsch, you really don’t need to be embarrassed,” she starts, shaking her head. She steps forward, holding a hand up. “It happens way more often than you’d think–”

Somehow that just makes him feel worse. He turns away from her, trying to move. This time he pulls something in his leg, under the bandage, and he cries out in pain.

_“Kirsch,_ christ!” She rushes toward him and reaches for him, trying to help him steady himself. “Be careful, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Kirsch pushes her away, more forcefully than he intended. It doesn’t matter. The look of shock on her face tells him he got his point across. _“Please._ Just… Get someone else. I don’t care. Get anyone else.”

Danny stares at him for a moment, taken aback. Finally she drops her hands and sets her jaw. “Fine. Just don’t hurt yourself until Mel gets here.”

She turns on her heel and leaves, closing the door behind her. Kirsch reaches up to cover his face with his hands. At least with her gone he can breathe.

 

* * *

 

Thankfully, they leave him alone for a while before Mel comes to help him. He’s sure that Danny probably told her about what happened, but she doesn’t bring it up. He’s grateful for that, at least.

(She takes his temperature while she’s there and he doesn’t have to ask her to know he’s still running a fever.)

He doesn’t see Danny again until the next day, during her rounds. Neither of them say anything, at first. She checks on his monitors and writes down notes and he’s not sure if it’s the tension in the air that he’s choking on or if it’s some new symptom.

“Danny, I’m sorry–”

“Look, Kirsch–”

They both start speaking at once, even though he can barely look at her. He releases a sigh and looks up to meet her gaze. He tries a small smile.

“I’m sorry that I snapped at you like that, you didn’t deserve it,” he continues. He feels weak, and his voice is quiet, but this is important. He looks away again, avoiding her gaze. “I guess I was just feeling… I dunno. Exposed.”

“No, it’s okay,” Danny insists, shaking her head. “I understand. Well, I mean I don’t personally understand, but... “ She clears her throat. “It’s okay, I get it. You’ve been through a lot and that’s probably the last thing you thought you’d have to deal with.”

“Yeah.”

“Look–” Danny grabs the chair near his hospital bed and pulls it forward so she can sit next to him. “I know we’ve only known each other a little while, and sometimes you’re a pain in my ass, but I want you to know that you can talk to me. If you need to. No judgement.”

Kirsch looks up at her, his eyes wide. He hadn’t expected her to offer herself up like that. Like she said, they’d only known each other for a little while. Barely more than two weeks. “Thanks.”

“I’ve just seen enough to know it can’t be easy, and I’ve noticed that you really only get letters from one person, so.” She clears her throat again. “It’s not much, and it’s probably kind of unethical, but… If you need a friend, I’m here.”

He stares at her, trying to gather his thoughts. Truthfully, it’s a little overwhelming. He can’t possibly tell her about his crush on her—she wouldn’t even be interested, even if she wasn’t his nurse—but that’s hardly the only thing that’s been on his mind. If anything, that has just been a distraction from everything else he could be dwelling on. It’s a little easier to think about something as dumb as a crush than it is to confront the fact that if he had been better at his job Will might still be alive. He’s still not even sure where to begin with that.

Kirsch swallows a lump in his throat, a dark sense of guilt gnawing at the pit of his stomach. “Thanks.”

She gives him a small smile, but then that worried look is back in her eyes. She reaches up to touch his cheek. “Kirsch, how are you feeling? Any better since the last checkup?”

“No, not really,” he replies, furrowing his brows. Thinking about it now, he probably feels worse. He still feels dizzy and a little sick to his stomach. “Not better.”

“Shit,” she mutters, standing up to grab the thermometer. Whatever number she finds on it after checking his temperature apparently does little to comfort her. She goes around to check on his leg, peeling back one of the bandages. He knows that his leg has been getting worse—especially if the pain is any indication—and her steely gaze worries him even more.

“It’s bad, isn’t it.”

“We’ll need to call in Dr. Spielsdorf,” she tells him, tucking the bandages back into place. “I’m not going to lie to you, it doesn’t look good. But I can’t say more until the doctor gets here. Just try to get some rest, okay?”

Kirsch doesn’t know how he’s supposed to rest. “Okay.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Kirsch.”


	3. i think we have an emergency

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I just want to say that I'm extremely flattered by the response I've been getting! And sorry this chapter took me a little longer to publish, but hopefully it's worth the wait! Many thanks to my beta, chiltongirlsdoitbetter!
> 
> The title of this chapter is from "Emergency" by Paramore.

Kirsch doesn’t think he’s ever been less okay. The nurses and his doctor have been in and out to check on him all day, and the constant carousel of faces has been a little dizzying. They tell him that infection has settled in on his leg, that they’re going to have to perform surgery on it. He’s pretty sure Dr. Spielsdorf said they'll need to amputate, but he can’t say for certain if he imagined that part or not.

They say they’re going to take him into surgery tomorrow.

He’s starting to lose track of what’s real and what isn’t, which he’s pretty sure is a bad sign. Among the normal faces of his nurses and the doctors, sometimes he sees others. Will often shows up like a shadow in the corner of his room, and sometimes Lt. Straka is there to glower at him in full battle gear and war paint.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you’re eating well enough?” his mother asks him from beside his bed, setting her hand on his forehead. “You look thin.”

“Mom, it’s… It’s fine, I don’t like the pudding here,” he insists. He closes his eyes for a second, certain that he can feel her hand cool against his head.

“That’s silly, you really should be eating more,” she tuts.

When he opens his eyes again, she’s gone.

“Kirsch, your mom has a point.”

He looks over to his right, opposite of where his mom had been standing moments before. Sarah Jane is standing next to his bed, wearing the same cheerleading uniform that she wore in high school. “SJ?”

“You’re not looking too hot,” she tells him with a sigh. She has both hands on her waist, one hip jutting to the side. She smirks a little and quirks an eyebrow at him. “Or actually, I should say that you do look hot, but not in the good way. Your fever is getting worse, isn’t it?”

Kirsch coughs, gritting his teeth against the pain it brings to his chest. “Is that your professional opinion, Dr. SJ?”

“Not a doctor quite yet, Kirsch. You know that.”

“Yeah, but you’ll be a good doctor. Won’t you?”

“Kirsch, who are you talking to?”

Kirsch struggles to turn his head, but he smiles when his eyes land on Danny.

“Did I ever tell you how pretty your eyes are? They’re like… The sky,” he tells her. He’s having trouble focusing on her, but knows that this is important. She needs to know. “That was the first thing I saw when I woke up. I thought you were an angel. I didn’t think angels were real.”

“Kirsch,” Danny replies, worry wrinkling the space between her brows. She reaches out and touches her hand to his head. Her touch feels much more solid than his mom’s had, but he still can’t be sure she’s real either. “Jesus christ.”

“Your freckles are like stars. Did I tell you that?”

She gives him a small smile, shaking her head. “Hang in there, Kirsch.”

Just as Kirsch is about to tell Danny about how her hair reminds him of the sunset, Elsie walks in and interrupts him. He never did like Elsie much.

“How is he?” Elsie asks, going to the other side of his bed to check on one of the monitors.

“He’s fucking dying, can’t you see that?” Will is standing at the end of his bed, covered in burns and staring at him like his eyes are on fire.

“Will…” He tries to sit up, to reach for his friend. If he can catch Will, maybe he can take his place. “Will, please. I didn’t want this…”

_“Shit,”_ Danny swears, trying to hold him back. Kirsch is weak enough that it doesn’t take much to keep him pinned to his bed. “Where’s Dr. Spielsdorf? We’ve got to move up his surgery. I knew tomorrow wouldn’t be soon enough.”

“She’s supposed to be on her way,” Elsie replies, helping Danny keep him in his bed. “Are you serious? We haven’t even been able to call his mom yet.”

“Do you think I’m _joking?”_ Danny snaps, glaring at Elsie. “Look at him, he’s getting worse. He might not last the night if we don’t do something."

Kirsch lays back against the bed again, giving up his fight even though Will’s eyes are still boring holes into him. He sobs softly, feeling sick to his stomach.

“And what are you saying we should do, exactly?” Elsie asks with a huff. “It’s not our job to–”

“It’s our _job_ to take care of him. Call Dr. Spielsdorf again, let her know what’s happening. Hell, see if you can find Dr. Belmonde. Maybe she’ll sign off on prepping him early.” Danny goes to get a wet rag from the sink, pressing it to his brow. “Just… Do something, okay?”

Elsie looks like she wants to argue, but she gives Danny a curt nod anyway, retreating back out of his room.

“Kirsch,” Danny murmurs, holding a hand to his cheek. “Just stay with me, okay?”

“Sunset,” he murmurs, his eyes drooping.

“What?”

“Your hair is like sunset.” Everything about her is like the sky. From her hair to skin and her eyes, she was crafted from the very heavens that stretched out above the rest of the world. She looks like she could make someone want to be an astronaut.

Danny releases a small laugh and shakes her head. “Watch out, Kirsch. Someone might think you’re flirting with the nurses.”

Kirsch shakes his head, trying to keep his breathing steady. It’s been getting harder to concentrate. “I just wanted you to know, D-bear.”

He thinks she might have said something after that, but he can’t be sure. He’s too busy slipping into darkness and telling his mom that he has to go to the moon.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up, he gets the strange feeling that he’s been here before. Four years ago, his senior year of high school, he had woken up to beeping machines and a sensation that he had more fog in his head than brains. It’s different this time, though. He still remembers the wall of flowers and balloons that everyone had brought him. He had been the the star running back, the kid that was going to take them to state. Now, no one even knows who he is anymore. Not really.

The first thing he notices is that his left leg feels like it’s on fire. After that, he realizes that, aside from the pain, he actually feels better. He doesn’t feel quite so feverish. His head may still be cloudy, but he doesn’t feel like the very fabric of his reality is coming apart. That’s an improvement.

Kirsch groans softly and tries to sit up a little, coughing. He’s alone, which he finds a little unnerving. More importantly, his mouth is dry and he’s thirsty as hell. It takes a moment for him to find the nurse’s call button, but eventually he does. He presses it and hopes that someone answers.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved to see Mel. He’s still a little jealous of her, but he knows that isn’t her fault. He doesn’t even know if anything ever happened between her and Danny.

He sits back again after she helps him with his water, laughing weakly. “You know, when I woke up I had this weird sensation that I was completely alone. Like the hospital was going to be totally empty, or something.”

“What, like you’d woken up to the zombie apocalypse?” she asks with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well you look a hell of a lot better, Kirsch. How’s your leg feeling?”

“Weird, actually,” he tells her, furrowing his brows. His leg had hurt before, but not quite like this. “It hurts like hell, but it’s different. I think my leg is asleep.”

“That’s common,” she assures him. “Phantom pain is normal, especially right after surgery. You’ll likely experience it frequently for the first few months.”

“Phantom pain?” he asks her, confused. “What do you mean?”

“For your residual limb,” she explains. She pauses,  watching him carefully, like he’s fragile. “Kirsch, how much do you remember from before you woke up?”

He tries to think back, but it’s like trying to remember a dream that keeps slipping away. He remembers the pain, and he remembers that he’d had surgery on his leg, but little else. He can’t even remember what they were supposed to be doing when they operated. “Not a lot. Why? What happened?”

Mel doesn’t answer him for a long moment, and Kirsch can feel panic settling into his chest. When she finally replies, his hand is clamped onto the railing of his bed so tightly that his knuckles are white. “Kirsch, infection had set in on your leg. That’s why you were so feverish. The doctors couldn’t save it.”

“What are you saying?”

“They had to amputate.”

Kirsch feels like the bottom of his stomach has fallen through and a wave of nausea passes over him. It can’t be real, he can feel his leg _right there._ How can it be gone if it hurts so much?

“That’s not… That can’t be true,” he argues, shaking his head. He reaches for the blankets covering his lap, pulling them back.

“Kirsch, you just woke up,” Mel warns, reaching up to try and stay his hands. “You should take it easy until Dr. Spielsdorf gets here.”

Kirsch ignores her, pushing past her hands to rip the blankets off himself. Stretched out before him is one perfect, whole leg and one that ends in bandages just below his knee. He feels like he’s going to be sick. “Oh my god…”

“Kirch, just breathe,” Mel urges him, reaching to try and steady him. “Look at me. You’re going to be okay. You’re healing.”

He struggles to catch his breath and it feels like a boa constrictor has wrapped around his chest, painfully squeezing his ribs. He looks at Mel, trying to focus on her. “How long has it been?”

“Almost two days, you’re recovering quickly,” she tells him, her voice steady.

He nods, slowly breathing in and out. He still feels panic rooted in his chest, but if he concentrates on breathing he thinks he can keep a lid on it. Hopefully. “I want to call my mom. Can I call my mom?”

“Of course,” Mel promises, gently squeezing his shoulder. “We can set that up for you when it’s daytime in the states. I mean it, Kirsch. You’re gonna be okay.”

He doesn’t feel like he’s going to be okay, but he doesn’t tell her that. If he doesn’t look at his legs, he can almost believe he’s still all there. There’s gotta be something fucked up about that.

“Okay,” he says when he feels like he’s calmed down enough to let her go. He takes one last deep breath, laying back against the hospital bed. He still doesn’t quite trust his senses, but he doesn’t need her or any of the other nurses to hover over him all day. He just needs to keep his mind occupied.

 

* * *

 

By the time he’s able to call his mom, both Dr. Spielsdorf and his therapist have both been by to check in with him. They ask him how he’s feeling and tell him what to expect in the next few months. He tells them that he’s fine even though he doesn’t feel it. He’s willing to spout off a few lines if it means they’ll leave him alone.

It’s not until he hears his mom’s voice that he really starts to feel like he’s unraveling.

_“Wilson, honey?”_

His chest tightens and he clutches the phone tighter, closing his eyes. “Hi Mom.”

_“Oh sweetheart, it’s so good to hear you.”_

He can tell that his mom is holding back tears and it’s getting harder for him to deny his own. His mom had always been a safe place for him to cry things out if he’d ever needed to when he was growing up, but it’s not the same if she’s on the other side of the world. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Yeah. God, I miss you so much Mom.”

_“I miss you too, sweetheart. But you’ll be home before you know it and I’ll see you soon.”_

_Home._ It sounds like such a foreign concept, now. How the hell is he supposed to go back home, now? If everything is different, is it really still home?

“Did they tell you?”

_“Yeah, they called and told me while you were in surgery. I’m so sorry, Willson. I’m so sorry,”_ she tells him. He can hear her voice break and he knows she must really be crying now. That does little to help him stay his own tears. _“But it’s going to be okay. You’ll come home and I’ll help you. You won’t be doing this alone.”_

Kirsch feels something break in his chest and he finally releases a soft sob. He still has his eyes closed against his tears, but they finally fight past his eyelashes and stream down his cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Only he doesn’t really think so. He can’t imagine going home and being anything but a burden to his mom. Christina Kirsch, the woman who has spent her entire life putting him first, should have gotten a break from that when he joined the army. That had been the whole _point._ She shouldn’t have to take care of him anymore.

_“Hey, listen to me Wilson,”_ she says, her voice a little stronger. She’d always been one of the strongest people he’d ever known. _“This won’t break you. You and I both know you’re too strong for that.”_

Is he? She sounds so convinced, but Kirsch isn’t sure if he is. He had tried to make something of himself, but failed spectacularly. Just like with everything else he’s ever tried to do. Maybe he was just never meant to be someone important.

“Okay,” he tells her, agreeing. He feels a familiar sense of guilt tear at the pit of his stomach. “Mom, I love you.”

_“I love you too, honey. You should get some rest, but I promise we’ll talk again soon.”_

He nods before he remembers she can’t see him. “Yeah, okay. I’ll call again soon.”

When they hang up, he wipes at his eyes for several minutes and he’s not quite sure if he feels better or worse.

 

* * *

 

The next day, he sees Danny for the first time since waking up. He must have woken up during her off days, and he had been wondering when he’d see her again.

(He doesn’t want to think about what it means when just seeing her makes him feel a little better. He’s not stupid enough to hope that he’s ever going to see her again after he goes home.)

He can see the concern on her face as soon she lays eyes on him and he can’t tell how he feels about it. The last thing he wants is for her to pity him, but he can’t pretend it’s not nice to think she cares.

“Hey,” she greets, immediately coming to stand by his bed. She doesn’t pick up his file or check his monitors first, instead setting her hand on his shoulder. She looks at him like she wants to say more, like something is fighting to push past her lips.

“Hey,” he returns. He offers a small smile. “I was wondering when you’d show up again, Lawrence. I thought you’d forgotten all about me.”

She smirks back at him, giving his shoulder a small squeeze before she moves to pick up his file. “Please, I’m obviously not going to be able to get rid of you that easily. You’re like a fungus.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “A fungus.”

“Yeah,” she tells him, not looking up as she goes to check his monitors. “You’re kinda gross but you’re growing on me.”

“Wow, that’s a really bad joke.”

She laughs and it’s like something lifts off his chest a little bit. “Yeah, well. I’ll make sure to take ‘jokes’ off my resume.”

“You really should,” he insists, even smiling a little wider. “I don’t know what made you think it had any business being on your resume in the first place.”

“Hey, I have good jokes sometimes.”

He laughs, though it quickly turns into a cough. He obviously hasn’t been laughing much since he’d woken up. “Yeah okay, Danny.”

She’s still smiling, biting down on her bottom lip as she puts his file away again. “Okay, maybe they kind of suck, but you’re certainly one to talk. Your jokes are awkward dad jokes, and like, dumb frat boy humor.”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Kirsch protests, making a face. “I’ve never been either of those things.”

“You mean you’ve never joined the illustrious brotherhood of Zeta Omega Mu?” she asks, grinning.

“Um, I’m pretty sure those aren’t even real words,” he points out.

Danny rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. He counts it as another win. She comes to stand by his side and she pulls back the blankets that cover his leg, his world violently crashing down again. He’d almost forgotten.

“How’s it feeling?”

“Um,” he starts eloquently, looking away. Anywhere but at his leg. “Fine, I guess. It hurts, but they said that’s normal. I think it feels a little stiff.”

“That’s normal too,” she tells him as she checks his bandages. If she notices his immediate change in demeanor, she doesn’t say anything. “I’m going to help you roll onto your side, okay? It help with the stiffness and it’ll help keep your joints from locking up.”

He nods, his sudden exhaustion winning out over his instinct to argue with her. If he was told about the risk of his joints locking up, he can’t remember. It’s just another thing to add onto his list of things to worry about. Quite frankly, he has larger concerns, but he won’t put up a fight. “Okay.”

She reaches to push one of the buttons on his hospital bed, laying it flat. He stares up at the ceiling and lets himself forget that an entire piece of him is missing. It’s not difficult to do, he can feel it like it’s still there under his bandages.

“Okay, are you ready?” she asks him, tucking her hands under him so she can help him roll.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Okay, on three,” she instructs. Her voice is calm, soothing. “One, two, and _three.”_

On her count, he rolls to his side and immediately finds relief in the new position. He had been laying on his back for so long that he hardly remembered what it feels like to do anything else. He releases a big sigh and closes his eyes. “Oh my _god.”_

“You alright?” she asks, her hand rested gently on his waist.

“Yeah,” he assures her, nodding. “No, yeah. This is way better. I’ve been laying on my back for so long.”

“Any pain?”

“No more than usual,” he promises. Just the good kind, like a really deep stretch.

“Good,” she replies. She awkwardly pats his shoulder before pulling her hand away. “Um. Good. I’ll be back to check on you soon, alright?”

He nods again, concentrating on breathing in and out. If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to get some sleep. Maybe he won’t dream this time, or maybe she’ll finally return to keep the nightmares at bay.

 

* * *

 

After the first few days of recovery, the doctors tell him he’s healing wonderfully. Better than expected. Meanwhile, Kirsch wonders how he’s supposed to heal if he’s never going to be whole again.

(When he tells his therapist this, he’s told that he’ll feel better in time. She gives him a prescription for antidepressants.)

The antidepressants help take the edge off, but he’s starting to forget what it’s like to actually feel anything. They’ve numbed his body with pain-killers and now they’ve given him something to take the edge off his brain. He’s suspended in a state of middle grounds and flat planes. He supposes that it’s better than the alternative, at least for now.

Every day is the same. The nurses come in, they check on him and make notes in his file, and then they leave. Danny tries to talk to him, but it gets harder to let her distract him. She’s like sunshine, but the sun has to set eventually.

Finally, she shows up at his bedside during lunch one day with a pack of cards and starts dealing before she even gets a “hello” out of him.

“What are you doing?” he asks, furrowing his brows at her. They haven’t played cards since before his surgery.

“Well, you’re feeling better, aren’t you?” she asks him naturally, like he should have expected her to come around. Maybe he should have, but he’s not sure how he feels about it. With each day his body gets stronger, he’s a day closer to going home. He’s not going to stay in this hospital forever, and it’s not like he can take her with him.

He shrugs, ignoring the cards she’s dealt for him. “Define _‘better.’”_

He can see a familiar worry wrinkle appear between her brows from the corner of his eye.

“C’mon, Kirsch,” she goads, picking up his cards and holding them out for him. “It’s been more than a week since you kicked my ass last and I’ve got some honor to defend.”

He turns his gaze to her before staring at the cards in her hand. He wants to say no, to push her away. Maybe it won’t be so bad when they send him home if he does. Instead he sighs and takes the cards from her, trying ignore the light feeling in his chest when she flashes him a triumphant grin.

“Your ass is mine, Wilson.”

“God, don’t call me that,” he complains, curling his lip in disdain. “Only my mom calls me Wilson.”

“That’s kind of sweet, though,” she teases, starting their game by drawing a card.

He rolls his eyes. “No it's not, it’s embarrassing. Everyone else stopped calling me that when I was eleven.”

“Why don’t you like Wilson?”

He looks up at her before shrugging again. He’s not sure he really wants to get into it. _“Home Improvement_ was a popular show at one point, you know. There’s only so many times a guy can hear ‘hidey ho, neighbor!’ before it starts to get old.”

“Okay, that sounds fair.”

“And then _Cast Away_ rolled around, and… Yeah, let’s just say that I’ve got my share of reasons not to like my name.”

“I don’t really like my first name either,” she offers with a shrug, reordering a few of her cards.

He raises his eyebrows at her. “So is Danny short for something?”

“Danica,” she sighs, raising a warning eyebrow at him. “But before you even think about calling me that, I’ll remind you that I know where you sleep.”

“You know, threats might work better on someone with a little more self-preservation instinct.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kirsch huffs, realizing she might not think that’s funny. People probably wouldn’t laugh about his current lack of interest in the whole living and breathing thing. “Nothing, it’s just a stupid joke.”

“Kirsch, you can’t just say things like that,” she argues, that furrow once again appearing between her brows.

“Like what?” he challenges, looking her dead in the eye. “What am I supposed to do, Danny? Because if I don’t joke about it, it becomes real. All my therapist wants to talk about is how it’s going to get better, that I’m gonna feel better next month or six months from now or in a year. You tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do with that _right now_ when I can’t even take a piss without help.”

“Kirsch…”

“It doesn’t matter,” he continues, shaking his head. He lays down his cards, reaching up to rub his forehead. “That’s what the pills are for, right? They’re gonna make me feel better.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Danny tells him quietly. She reaches up to pull his hand away from his forehead.

“Then what the hell am I taking them for?”

“Dr. Truong is a very good psychiatrist. She can help you.”

“Yeah, okay,” he relents, letting go of her hand. “They’re gonna send me home soon anyway, right? It doesn’t matter.”

Danny stays silent for a moment before reaching to pack up the cards again. Kirsch feels like shit, but he doesn’t stop her.

“My break’s about over, I should really get back,” she tells him abruptly, standing up.

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t look back at him before she leaves, escaping out the door and shutting it behind her.

 

* * *

 

Kirsch feels like he’s going to lose his mind. He’s been in this same hospital room for weeks, and between the almost constant phantom pain and confinement to his room he thinks he’s probably going stir-crazy. Now that he’s actually lucid, boredom has started to eat away at him. He has a small television set in his room, but everything is in German and the only thing even remotely watchable is the game shows. Even so, most of those he doesn’t really understand. It doesn’t take long before he feels like throwing the remote control at the screen.

“Isn’t there _anything_ else to watch?” he complains to Danny one day.

She makes a face, shaking her head. “I’m afraid you’re SOL, buddy.”

“Seriously? Don’t they have ESPN here or something?” he asks, flipping through the channels. He’s been lucky enough to catch soccer a few times, but other than that he hasn’t really been able to find anything resembling the sports he knows and loves. Soccer is fine, but it has never been his favorite. Honestly, he'd probably sell his soul if it meant getting to watch a 49ers game.

“I don’t think we get that channel here,” she says with a crooked smirk, letting him down. “They play some of the big games, I think, but that’s about it.”

Kirsch groans and turns off the TV, tossing the remote aside in disgust.

“I didn’t realize you liked sports so much,” she comments.

“That’s probably an understatement,” he admits, sighing. “It’s just been a while, but I think that might be making it worse. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve watched a real football game? It’s been a _very long time.”_

She smirks, raising an eyebrow. “Football.”

“Yeah, _football._ The greatest goddamn sport America has to offer.”

“Weeeell, let’s not be hasty–”

“You don’t like football?” he asks her, incredulous.

Danny shrugs. “It’s fine. I just always liked soccer, more.”

Kirsch takes a moment to stare at her in disbelief. “I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes at him. It had been a little tense between them after their last card game, but that quickly resolved itself. Whatever had happened between them just hadn’t really felt worth holding on to. At least, that’s what Kirsch told himself. He still felt guilty, and thought that maybe he should apologize, but it was also getting harder not to push her away. Every moment he spent with her served as a reminder that he was going to be going home, probably sooner rather than later. She’d forget all about him soon enough, anyway.

“Whatever, like football is any better,” Danny argues. “Soccer is an international pastime. Technically it’s the real football.”

“You take that back right now,” he tells her, raising a finger at her threateningly.

“Or what?” she grins. “You probably root for a lame team anyway.”

“I do not! The San Francisco 49ers are a national treasure.”

“Oh my god, of course you back the 49ers. I should have guessed.”

Kirsch scoffs, folding his arms over his chest defensively. “And who do you go for?”

“What if I tell you I really don’t give a shit?” she asks.

“Bullshit.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “I’m serious. I really don’t have a strong enough opinion about any of them, I just wanted to see what you’d do. This is the most riled up I’ve seen you in ages.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s not fair,” he protests. “Second of all, I don’t believe you. Come on, you have to like someone. Where did you grow up?”

“Army brat, remember? The team I followed as a kid was the women’s national soccer team. I still remember watching Mia Hamm take the U.S. to the 1999 world cup as a kid. I was only six, but I can still picture it.”

“So you really don’t have a favorite team.”

Danny shrugs. “My dad always really liked the Patriots. Obviously.”

Kirsch laughs. “Obviously. I guess there are worse teams.”

“Like the 49ers?”

“Dude, I’m serious. Don’t talk like that about the 49ers,” Kirsch warns. “I _idolized_ that team when I was a kid. Steve Young was my hero. I even have a signed poster.”

“That’s adorable.”

“It’s _awesome._ I could probably sell it on ebay for a shitton of money, too. But that’d be, like. Blasphemous, or something.”

“So what you’re saying is that you’ve got an entire room full of 49ers merch at home, right?”

Kirsch rolls his eyes. “It’s not that bad, okay. It used to be way worse. I thought I was going to grow up to play for the 49ers professionally. I might have even had a shot.”

“What happened?”

He shrugs. “Broke my collar my senior year. Wiped me out for the whole season.”

Danny sucks in a breath, gritting her teeth. “Jeez, that’s gotta suck.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he adds, sarcastic. “That’s partly why I joined the army, all my other plans involved getting a football scholarship. Whole lotta good that did me.”

“Do you think you’ll go to college when you get home?”

Kirsch pauses for a moment. He hadn’t really thought about it. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get home.”

Danny purses her lips for a moment, thinking. After a minute, she moves to his bedside table, grabbing a pen from her pocket and a pad of paper, writing something down.

“Okay, look,” she starts, squaring her shoulders as she straightens again. “I know Dr. Spielsdorf thinks we’ll be able to discharge you soon, and that means you won’t be my patient anymore.”

She hands him the slip of paper, and on it there’s an email address. He blinks up at her, unsure of how to respond. “Is this…?”

“My email address,” she confirms quickly. “I understand if it’s weird for you, or if you don’t want it, but… Just because you’re going to be stateside again doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, right?”

“Right.”

“So, I mean,” she continues, reaching up to smooth her hair. She shrugs. “This way we can keep in touch. No pressure, or anything. But… I won’t be here in Germany forever.”

He nods, staring back at the email address before looking up at her again. “No, you’re totally right. I… Um. Thank you, Danny.”

She shrugs. “It’s not goodbye yet, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” he agrees. A small smile tugs at one side of his mouth.

“And I’ll see what I can do about finding a 49ers game for you.”

His grin widens, and for the first time in a long time he thinks that maybe things really will be okay. “My hero.”

 

* * *

 

Once Dr. Spielsdorf says he’s healthy enough to go home, Kirsch finds himself on a plane back to the other side of the planet before he even knows what’s happening. He’s still not quite sure he isn’t dreaming. Home is a concept that has become warped and strange to him. Still, he can’t wait to see his mom again.

It was weird to leave. They kept him in the hospital for a little over three weeks after the surgery, and by the time they cleared him to go home they had him up and moving around. He was even able to hop around with crutches a bit, but the wheelchair is still easier. Once he gets home, starting physical therapy is first on the agenda, as well as getting started with a prosthetist. The idea of getting to walk again like a real person is exciting, even if he knows it’s going to take a lot of work.

(Before he leaves, he makes sure to leave a note for Danny. He writes his email address on it and hopes she gets it. It seemed like a good idea at the time but now he realizes it might be weird if someone else finds it first.)

He sleeps for most of the plane ride, which he’s grateful for. He hadn’t been able to sleep that much the first time he flew overseas and it had been awful. At least this time he misses most of it. He doesn’t think he likes flying very much.

They help Kirsch off the plane, but once he’s in his chair he can mostly get around himself. They sent a nurse with him to help, but he doesn’t let him push his chair. Instead, he lets the guy carry his bags and tell people to get out of his way. He practically races down the terminal, because he knows that once they get past security, his mom will be waiting to meet him. He can hardly contain himself.

He sweeps past the elevator doors down to baggage claim and starts scanning the crowds. He can feel his heart beating faster in his chest until finally he finds her, surrounded by a small crowd of familiar faces from home. It’s not a huge crowd, but it’s way more than he was expecting. His mom must have rallied together everyone still in town.

He pushes his chair forward to meet them, trying not to get overwhelmed. People have balloons. Some even have flowers. He hadn’t been expecting anything like this.

His mom steps forward to meet him, tears streaming down her cheeks, stopping just soon enough to throw her arms around him the best she can. He buries his nose in her shoulder and breathes in the familiar scent of her perfume and freshly baked cookies. Which, he can only hope means she has baked him some peanut butter cookies. That’s usually what that means.

He knows his cheeks are wet before he pulls away and his mom wipes them dry, laughing through her own tears.

“Welcome home, Wilson.”

 


	4. fall asleep with a panic switch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, and thanks for hanging in there! Chapters 4 and 5 were originally meant to be one chapter, but then it got hella long and I decided to split it up. The good news is that 5 is already written, so that should be up soon as well! All my love and devotion to my beta chiltongirlsdoitbetter, who keeps me motivated and helps me fix my shit.
> 
> The chapter title are lyrics from "Panic Switch" by the Silversun Pickups.

_Dear Kirsch,_

_You’re probably on the plane right now, but I thought maybe it would be nice to have something to read when you get home. It was kinda weird to walk by your room today since it was empty. I think that’s going to take some getting used to._

_How is California? It’s been a long time since I’ve been to California and I was only a kid, but I remember liking it. It was really green and the beach was pretty great. I hope you get to go to the beach soon._

_How’s your mom? She seems like a pretty great lady from how you talked to her on the phone. It’s probably pretty great to see her._

_Anyway, I guess I just wanted to tell you that I was thinking about you. My shift feels a little longer now. But hopefully I’ll hear from you soon, yeah?_

_Sincerely,_

_Danny_

 

//

 

_Danny,_

_Flying officially sucks. I slept through most of it I think, but maybe that was just because of the pain killers. When I was awake I wanted to barf my brains out. I don’t think the guy they sent with me was too excited about that._

_California is cool I guess. It feels the same I think? But maybe that’s why it feels weird. Like something big was supposed to change but nothing ever did so it’s like groundhog day or something. Did you ever see that movie? I think it kind of feels like that._

_My mom is great. She’s glad I’m home anyway. I think I was home five minutes before she started shoving food in front of me. She thinks I look too thin so she’s been on a baking kick ever since I got back. I’m not complaining. Do you like cookies? That’s probably a dumb question but maybe I can send you some. Or I can get my mom to give me the recipe and I can send that to you. They’re peanut butter cookies and they’re really killer. You’re not allergic are you?_

_I hope your shifts aren’t too long. Maybe you can find someone else to kick your ass at cards. Tell Elsie I miss her._

_Sincerely,_

_Kirsch_

 

* * *

 

After a week of physical therapy, Kirsch thinks he might mostly be getting the hang of walking again. Kind of. The prosthetic feels weird, but he learns pretty fast to be grateful that his leg was amputated below the knee and not above it. There’s another guy he sees at physical therapy with an above-knee amputation and his prosthetic looks awkward, at best. He’s glad he doesn’t have to try and figure out how a mechanical knee works on top of everything else. He’s unsteady enough as it is.

For the most part, he can already get around without his chair. That’s mainly because he hates it and he’s determined to try and avoid it as much as possible. Instead, he’s been using crutches, and he hopes that he’ll be good enough to get around with a cane soon. The less assistance he needs, the better.

(Even with the crutches, he still loses his balance sometimes. Which totally sucks.)

Kirsch lets out a frustrated huff as he drops into the passenger seat of his mom’s car after a particularly grueling physical therapy session. He feels as though his progress has sort of flattened out, and he’s pretty sure he already has a massive bruise blooming on his hip from landing on it repeatedly.

“Is everything okay, honey?” his mom asks, still holding the car door open for him. She looks down at him with a concerned frown.

He nods, not looking up at her as he hands over his crutches. She places them in the back seat before going around to the driver’s side, sliding in next to him.

“It’s okay if you’re frustrated,” she tells him, turning the ignition. She looks over at him a moment and her gaze on him feels like a heavy blanket.

“No, I know,” he tells her, reaching to click his seat belt into place. He shakes his head, staring straight forward. He doesn’t know how to tell his mom why he’s so frustrated if he can’t even place his finger on it himself. It’s not like he expected to be able to run a marathon as soon as he got home. “It was just a rough session, that’s all.”

“Okay,” she tells him, giving him a small smile. “I’m sure it’ll get easier. It just takes practice, like anything else. It took you some time to learn how to walk the first time too, you just don’t remember.”

He reluctantly returns her smile, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not how you tell it. You used to tell people how I just decided to start walking one day.”

She laughs as she pulls out of the parking lot. “Maybe I exaggerated a little. If that’s any indication, though, you’ll be walking on your own in no time.”

He falls silent again, furrowing his brows. He wishes he could have that much optimism.

“Hey, you wanna stop and get some ice cream?” his mom asks hopefully.

He lifts his head finally, perking up a little at the mention of ice cream. He’s probably already gained ten pounds since coming home, but he doesn’t care. He’s never been one to pass up a chance for ice cream. He smiles. “Hell yeah.”

 

* * *

 

_Kirsch,_

_I’m glad you made it back safe, though I’m sorry to hear the flight sucked. The meds probably didn’t help the whole nausea thing, but at least you’re home now._

_It’s been a really long time since I’ve seen Groundhog Day, but I think I know what you mean. My contract will be up later this year, which means I might be going home for the first time in a long time if I don’t re-enlist. Thinking about it kind of makes me feel weird. I had assumed I’d probably enlist again, but I’m not so sure anymore._

_I’m not allergic to peanuts, so I wouldn’t mind getting a recipe at all. I don’t know if I’ll be able to make them as good as your mom, but I wouldn’t complain. Who doesn’t like cookies?_

_How has physical therapy been going? I imagine you’ve started using a prosthetic, at least a little bit. Have you been able to start walking? That’s gotta be really strange re-learning how to do that, but I have hope it’s going well._

_I told Elsie that you’re thinking about her. She made a face that I can only assume means that she returns your affection and misses you dearly. Honestly, I think she may be distraught; she might not ever be the same. You should be more responsible with your irresistible charms, Krisch._

_Mel says hi, too. Shifts are still long, but I’ll just have to get used to it. Talk to you soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Danny_

 

* * *

 

Kirsch stares down at his leg. What used to be his leg. He supposes most of it is still there, but it’s not really the same. A third of it is gone and most of his dignity has disappeared with it.

Not that it can really be helped. After almost a month of frequent physical therapy, there’s a lot he still hasn’t re-learned how to do. Even now, he’s sitting on the couch like a bum instead of going outside like he’d prefer. His own body is keeping him prisoner.

His mom tries to help, she really does. She gets things for him and does his laundry, she makes his meals. She does all the things a mother should do, and why wouldn’t she? It’s not like he can yell at her just for taking care of him. He wants to, though. That’s what really eats him up inside. Every time she hands him a plate full of some delicious home-cooked meal, the kind of shit he used to dream about overseas, he wants to knock it out of her hands. But that’s not fair to her. She’s just doing what she can.

He just never took into account how much _sitting_ there would be once he got home. Which is stupid. He’s missing a leg, of course there’s a lot of sitting. Even just getting up and going to the kitchen feels like it takes ten times the amount of effort than it did before, so he stays mostly confined to the couch. He plays video games and he watches TV but there’s only so much of that he can take before he starts feeling restless. It makes him want to smash his head through a mirror just to feel like he’s breaking through something.

It isn’t until he’s through his seventh _Seinfeld_ rerun that he finally shuts the TV off that day. One more minute of studio audience laughter and he probably would have puked. Instead, he reaches for his laptop and starts searching for something, _anything,_ to distract him for a few more minutes. Somehow he winds up on Facebook, which probably mistake number one. People only put things they’re happy about on Facebook, and there’s only so much of someone else’s happiness that he can stomach these days.

And that’s before he starts looking under stones that are better left unturned.

It’s not like he means to go looking for Will’s Facebook. He hadn’t even been totally sure that Will had one. But it’s one of those inescapable spirals, like when he’s on YouTube and somehow he finds himself watching a ten minute video about how to hollow out a canoe. (Why would he want to know how to hollow canoe out of a tree? He doesn’t even own any power tools.) Only this spiral is a lot more depressing and before Kirsh knows it he’s staring at pictures of the man who sacrificed his life to save him. They’re mostly from before Will joined the army, though there are a few that Kirsch has seen before. He must have put them up while they were out in the field. There’s even an untagged picture of Kirsch with the rest of their platoon that he didn’t know Will had.

It’s like a sick torture, looking at all of it. There are pictures and well-wishes from the people left behind. Will had people who loved him, people who deserve to have him back. And what did Will sacrifice himself for? Some jerk with no real friends or family except for his mom and a woman who lives halfway around the world. (Can he even call Danny his friend? He still isn’t totally sure. It’s weird to think about when she’s so far away.) This all only proves to him that it should have been Kirsch instead. He’s lost count of how many times he’s been reminded of that.

Before Kirsch can exit out of the window, his eyes land on the last loaded post to Will’s timeline. It’s a picture of Will with a girl, one with similarly dark features and the same heavy-lidded eyes. He can only assume that it’s his sister. In the picture, Will has his arms wrapped around the girl and his tongue stuck out, threatening to lick her cheek. His sister looks appropriately disgusted, but like she’s put up with this a million times before. He reads the name of the poster, Laura Hollis.

Before he can stop himself, he’s clicking through to her profile.

He finds that Laura is not, in fact, William Luce’s sister, but that she’s dating William Luce’s sister. Carmilla—the actual sister—apparently doesn’t have a Facebook, but still manages to have an online presence through this Laura who keeps the world updated on behalf of them both. They look good. Happy, even. Kirsch is glad at least that Carmilla didn’t have to suffer through Will’s death on her own.

He stares at the computer screen in front of him, knowing that he’s the reason there’s a big Will-shaped hole in this family. His therapist keeps telling him that he shouldn’t think like that, like that IED might as well have had his name on it. Still, it’s hard to choke down the guilt. He moves to click away from the page before he starts breaking out in hives, when something catches his eye. He hadn't noticed it immediately, but he doesn't think Will had ever told him that his sister lives in the Bay Area. They’re in San Francisco, which isn’t even that far from him. An hour or two with traffic, at most.

He blinks, not sure what to do with that information. It takes another three seconds of internal struggle before Kirsch finally exits the window and decides that video games are a better use of his time. It doesn’t matter at all that Will’s sister lives in the Bay Area.

Two days later he has Laura Hollis’s Facebook pulled up again and a message typed up to send.

 

* * *

 

_Danny,_

_Hey, so. What’s brown and sticky??? A STICK. You can have that joke, you’re welcome. Tell it to the other nurses and you’ll get invited to all the nurse parties. As someone who gets invited to a lot of parties, I can confirm that this is a good strategy._

_I’m glad you liked the cookies. My mom wanted me to make sure I told you not to let them cook too long. They come out softer if they’re a little under-baked, I guess? I don’t know much about baking._

_Is it starting to warm up in Germany? I was looking online at some of the stuff there in Frankfurt and I’m kinda sad now that I never got to see anything besides the hospital. It must be really cool there in the spring when the weather doesn’t suck. I never got to see that much, but it seemed like it rained a lot._

_We met with my prosthetist guy again the other day and he’s saying that everything is looking really good. I got my new temporary leg and it fits way better. He said that in a few months we’ll be able to start fitting for a more permanent leg, so that’s cool. Walking is still weird, but it’s getting easier I think. It kind of feels like I’m walking on one stilt, but I can still feel my leg there too. It’s the weirdest shit. It’s good to be out of the chair, though. I hope I never have to look at that thing again._

_Send the other nurses my love, it’s rough out here in the real world where I actually have to do shit for myself now._

_Sincerely,_

_Kirsch_

 

* * *

 

Kirsch doesn’t really know what to expect. He’s pretty sure that this might be a mistake, but he knows he can’t back out now. It’s too late, his mom has already dropped him off at the coffee shop they had agreed on and he knows that Will’s sister and her girlfriend are already on their way. They’ll probably be walking through the door any second.

Plus, he can’t deny how curious he is. He probably shouldn’t be, and he should probably have left it alone, but this might be the last connection that he has with Will. At least, the last one that doesn’t remind him of fire and death and overwhelming helplessness.

He chews on his bottom lip, bouncing his good leg nervously as he waits. He fidgets with the protective sleeve on his cardboard coffee cup and glances repeatedly at the door. Any second now.

It’s only about five minutes after two—the time they’d agreed to meet—when Kirsch watches two women that can only be the couple he’s waiting on waltz through the entrance. His heart stops and he stares at them with wide eyes as the shorter one looks around to find him. When her eyes meet his, he gives her an awkward smile and a wave, his heartbeat deciding to pick up again at a jackhammer pace. He’s so nervous that he thinks he might throw up. Laura, the shorter one whom Kirsch had contacted first, looks nice enough, but Will’s sister looks… _intimidating._

He grips the side of the table and uses his cane to stand up as they cross over to him, since it’s only polite. He gives them both another smile and ducks his head in greeting.

“You guys must be Carmilla and Laura,” he says, holding out the hand that isn’t gripping onto his cane.

"Must we be?" the darker-haired one counters, sounding positively bored as she raises an eyebrow at his outstretched hand.

_"Carmilla,"_ the other one scolds, elbowing her partner in the side. She turns back to a confused Kirsch with a big smile plastered on her face, taking his hand politely. "Yes, I'm Laura and this is Carmilla. And you're Kirsch, right?"

Kirsch nods eagerly, shaking Laura's hand a bit longer than necessary. He feels a little silly as he lets go. "Yeah, that's me. Thank you so much meeting with me, both of you."

"I'm gonna go grab us coffee," Carmilla announces, slipping away before she's forced to respond otherwise.

Kirsch watches as she goes, his stomach twisting with guilt. He's hardly gotten two words out and she hates him already. This was a bad idea.

"Don't mind her," Laura assures him, interrupting his thoughts. "She's still... You know, mourning."

"Yeah, of course," he agrees, nodding. "No, it's fine, I get it."

"She'd never admit it, but it's been pretty rough. I'm sure you understand," she adds, folding her arms as she watches Carmilla wait in line. It doesn't take long to figure out how much they care about each other. The simultaneous concern and adoration with which Laura looks at Carmilla is enough to make it obvious.

"I just appreciate that you both came," he tells her again. He motions at one of the chairs across the table from him, inviting her to sit. "How long have you and Carmilla known each other?"

"We met in college," Laura replies with a smile, taking her seat across from him and pulling the chair next to her back a little so that it would be ready for Carmilla. She gives a soft chuckle as she turns back to Kirsch. "We were actually roommates my freshman year and we hated each other at first. We got over that, obviously."

He laughs, letting her put him a bit more at ease. For whatever reason, he immediately feels comfortable around Laura. It’s clear already that she has a very warm personality, and he kind of wonders how she ended up with Carmilla. But that's not really fair, he supposes. He doesn't even know Carmilla, or anything about either of them. "Obviously."

"Yeah, almost five years later and we're still living together. It's a little different than being roommates now, though," she jokes.

He gives another polite laugh. "Yeah, I imagine so."

"Oh you do, do you?" Carmilla asks pointedly as she returns with two cups. She drops a kiss to Laura's cheek and sets one of the cups in front of her before taking the seat next to her. She turns to give Kirsch another withering gaze as she brings her own cup to her lips. "You _imagine?"_

Kirsch’s eyes widen and he immediately tries to backpedal. "That's not– I didn't mean–"

"Oh, come on, Carmilla," Laura cuts in, making a face at her girlfriend. "Stop giving him such a hard time."

Carmilla sighs and rolls her eyes. "Just pulling your leg, beefcake. You've still got one of those left, don’t you?"

Kirsch stares back at her, dumbfounded. Not a single person has dared to talk to him like that, not since he woke up in Germany. "Uh..."

_"Not_ what I meant," Laura chastises.

"He looks like a big boy to me," Carmilla points out with a smirk. "Surely, he can handle himself."

Laura looks like she wants to argue further, but Kirsch raises a hand to stop her. "It's fine. Really."

"So, what did you want to meet us for?" Carmilla asks, cutting to the chase. As far as Kirsch can tell, she would rather be anywhere else but here. He’s getting the feeling she only agreed because of Laura. "If you're here to tell me my brother's last dying words or some kind of nonsense like that, you can save your breath. I don't want to know."

"No," Kirsch shakes his head, furrowing his brows.

An image of Will's face flashes through his mind and Kirsch watches yet again as his best friend fails to catch his hand before the latch on the door in front of them pops open. _‘Kirsch, don't—!’_

He blinks, swallowing a lump in his throat. "It's not that, it's..."

Carmilla raises her eye to meet his gaze again, staring back at him coldly. "Well? Surely you have a good reason for reminding me why my brother won't be coming home."

His mouth hangs open as he searches for the right words. Why _did_ he ask them to meet him? For entirely selfish reasons, he realizes. He certainly didn't do it for her.

"Will was my best friend," he finally answers. He hangs his head, clenching his jaw tightly against the surge of regret building in his chest. "I know that you meant a lot to him, and when I saw that you lived nearby... I knew I'd regret it if I didn't at least try to connect with you."

Carmilla doesn't say anything to that, and he takes her silence as permission to continue.

"Look, I realize this is only reopening wounds—"

"You _think?"_

"—But I know I can't be the only looking for closure." Kirsch bites his lip, hoping that he isn't overstepping himself any more than he already has. "And... I thought that you might want to know that Will really loved you. He used to talk about you like you were the only lifeline he had left."

He watches as Carmilla expression softens, only to allow a glimpse at the ache he knows she must be feeling. So she's not made of stone, after all. When she speaks again, he catches the faintest waver in her voice.

"I'm sure you're a really nice guy, pretty boy. I can see why Will liked you so much," she tells him, finally breaking eye contact. She takes her cup of coffee again and stands up, leaving both Laura and Kirsch to look up at her in bewilderment. "And I hope you got your closure. I don't know where to tell you to look for it, otherwise."

"That's it?" Laura asks, shooting Kirsch an apologetic look.

"Yeah," she replies simply. "That's it. Good luck with the leg."

With that, she escapes out of the coffee shop, breezing through the door like she’s riding on wind. She's gone before either of them have a chance to stop her.

Laura turns back to Kirsch, her lips pulling in a cringe. "I'm so sorry, Kirsch."

He stares after Carmilla, defeated. He can't say what he expected in the first place. "No, it's okay. This whole thing was stupid of me."

"It's _not_ stupid," she insists, standing up again. "Everyone deserves to mourn. Carmilla is just... She can be hard to read and even harder to get to know, even on a good day."

"She hates me, doesn't she?"

"Well, she doesn't _know_ you."

"She doesn't want to," he points out. He sighs, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking would happen. Thank you again for helping me with this."

"Really, I was happy to," she tells him. She offers him one last smile. "I should go after her, but you still have my number, right? If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call."

He reluctantly returns her smile. "Thank you."

"I mean it," she adds with a firm nod, backing toward the door after Carmilla. "It was really nice meeting you."

He waves, stuck to his seat as she retreats after her girlfriend. "Yeah. You too."

 

* * *

_Kirsch,_

_That’s probably the worst joke I’ve ever heard in my life and it did not get me invited to any parties. You’re going to have to do better than that if I’m gonna be able to put ‘jokes’ back on my resume._

_I’ll have to try keeping a closer eye on them the next time I try baking again, but tell your mom they were pretty stellar already. A+ cookie recipe, I’ll hold on to it._

_Frankfurt is really gorgeous in the spring, and I’m excited that it’s coming back around again. The winter gets so cold, but the flowers are starting to grow again. I’ll have to see if I can take some pictures for you. And who knows? Maybe you’ll get to come back, someday._

_I’m glad to hear that walking is getting easier, that’s got to be a relief. Eventually it’ll probably be second nature. Have you looked at those cool 3D-printed prosthetics? I was looking at some of them and they look really great. Maybe you’ll be able to get one of those, eventually. And those running blades, too, those things are kind of awesome._

_Try not to overwork yourself now that you have to do stuff on your own, okay?_

_Danny_

 

//

_Danny,_

_Not to totally disregard everything you said in your last email, but I think I probably did something bad. Maybe._

_Uh, funny story? Will’s sister lives in San Francisco. Will as in the soldier who died saving me. Crazy, right? Who knew? I didn’t know that. I only found out because Facebook is an awful invention. But I found Will’s Facebook, and then from there I found his sister. Or actually, I found his sister’s girlfriend because I guess his sister doesn’t a Facebook of her own but the girlfriend does. And the girlfriend is super nice. Like SUPER nice. But I’m pretty sure the sister hates me._

_Oh yeah, I contacted them. They met me at a coffee shop in San Fran and I think that was a mistake. Will’s sister hates me and she doesn’t even know everything that happened. She doesn’t know that Will sacrificed his life for me. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? Obviously I probably shouldn’t contact them again, right? Like, I should probably stay out of it._

_Anyway, I’m sorry for dumping this on you. I wasn’t really sure who to talk to. I feel kind of weird about it._

_I’m glad Frankfurt is getting flowers again. I hope it’s as pretty as it sounds._

_Kirsch_

* * *

It turns out that Laura makes good on her word. Not only that, but she’s actually the one to reach out to him first. He can’t say he understands why exactly she has decided to keep up contact with him, but he also doesn’t think he should question it. He finds that he genuinely likes Laura. She’s practically a ray of sunshine in his otherwise increasingly dreary life and he’s a little short on good friends, these days.

But he kind of wonders if Carmilla knows that they’ve been talking.

Not that there’s anything even remotely scandalous in nature about their relationship. He knows he’s 100% not Laura’s type, and, even he was, that would be a level of fucked up that not even a Lannister would touch.

(He’s been watching a lot of Game of Thrones.)

It’s a little strange, he admits, but only if he thinks too hard about it. Lucky for him, he doesn’t usually have that problem. It’s easy to be friends with Laura and he understands a little better how Carmilla was probably charmed by her eager kindness and contagious positivity. He knows he usually feels a little better even just after talking to her on the phone. Which kind of becomes a regular thing. He’s pretty sure that Laura is just checking up on him to make sure he’s okay, most of the time.

_“How was therapy?”_ she asks him from the other end of the line. _“You said that you had that today, didn’t you?”_

Kirsch makes a face that he soon realizes she can’t see. “It was fine, I guess.”

_“Sounds real convincing,”_ she deadpans.

He rolls his eyes and pauses his game. When he got back home, he had to get rid of every game that reminded him of the military, but he’s glad he can still get away with things like the Batman games and Dragon Age. It helps him keep his mind off things for a bit.

“It was therapy, how do you think it was?” he counters, laying back on his bed. “I spent an hour talking to someone who’s practically a stranger about how life sucks after the army. Don’t get me wrong, my therapist is great, it just feels… I dunno, forced.”

_“Well...”_ Laura starts, trailing off for a second, like she’s considering her words carefully. _“I mean, I’m not a therapist, I wouldn’t be able to offer the same things that a licensed psychiatrist can, but I can still listen.”_

Kirsch furrows his brows, debating. He doesn’t want to take advantage of her kindness. “Are you sure?”

_“Of course I’m sure, Kirsch. We’re friends now, right?”_

His mouth twitches into a smile. “I dunno, I think that’d be pretty cool.”

_“Then, cool,”_ she agrees. He can practically hear her smiling. _“And since we’re friends, you can tell me things. So, what’s on your mind?”_

Kirsch takes a deep breath. He wonders if he even knows how to put how he’s feeling into words.

“You know what’s really fucked up?” he asks finally. “I think I hate it here. My mom is perfect and I love her, but… Every morning when I wake up, I look at the same room that I grew up in and it’s like I’m stuck. I’m back where I was before I joined the army, only now I’m literally missing an entire piece of myself. It’s like I went backwards.”

Laura’s silent on the other end for a moment, and he gets scared for a moment that maybe went  a little too far. Maybe that only overwhelmed her. It would really suck if he just chased away one of his only friends, but then she starts talking again and he feels a sudden rush of relief. _“There’s no way I can understand exactly how you feel, I know that. But I think I know what you mean by feeling stuck, it’s not a good feeling.”_

“No, it’s not,” he agrees.

_“So what are you going to do about it? What are your goals?”_

He blinks, not sure if he’s ever actually thought of it that way. He’s not even sure if he knows what he wants. Everything feels sort of unattainable when just walking around his house can wear him out. “You mean, besides the walking thing?”

_“Yeah,”_ she agrees. _“I mean, that’s definitely a good start, but what about after that? What do you want to_ do? _Have you thought about moving out?”_

Kirsch frowns. Sure, he’s thought about moving out, but without help he might as well set his sights on moving a mountain instead. “How am I supposed to move out? I can’t even walk to the grocery store, it’s not like I can just go get my own place right now.”

Laura’s quiet again for a moment and he can almost hear her debating with herself. _“Well… You know, we actually have a spare room. We were going to rent it out, but I can probably talk to Carmilla about it. Maybe you can stay with us until you get your feet under you. Um, figuratively.”_

“You’d really do that for me?” he asks, scared to get his hopes up. He barely knows Laura and Carmilla, but he can’t help but feel like it would have to be better than staying in the rut he’s in now. “I mean, if you don’t think it would be too much trouble…”

_“Are you kidding?”_ Laura asks, sounding more confident. _“We’d love to have you. I promise, we’ve got room.”_

Kirsch bites his lip, sitting up again. “I’d have to think about it, but… Can I get back to you on that?”

_“Of course, take your time. If you ever want to take it, the offer is on the table.”_

He smiles to himself, the gears in his head churning. Maybe it’s a little strange that she’s offering to let him stay with them, but he has to admit that he feels more optimistic than he has in a while. What if it could really work out?

“Thanks, Laura. I honestly appreciate it. I’ll let you go, though. My mom wants me to go grocery shopping with her, even though I’m pretty sure she’s just worried about leaving me home alone all the time. It’s like I’m a kid all over again.”

She laughs softly. _“Yeah, no worries. I should get back to this article I’m writing. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”_

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you later. Bye, little nerd.”

_“Bye, Kirsch!”_

He smiles to himself as he hangs up, suddenly feeling much more energetic. Logistically, he’d have to work some things out, like how he’d get to his doctor appointments and stuff. It might be worth it, though. He knows that much. He can’t get stuck at home again.

* * *

_Kirsch,_

_First of all, you don’t need to apologize for talking to me. I meant it when I said that you’re allowed to tell me anything, even if it has to be in an email. That part admittedly sucks._

_Why do you think Will’s sister hates you, though? Did she say something about it? She doesn’t even know you, it seems a little ridiculous that she’d just hate you for no reason._

_Maybe staying out of it would be a good idea if she’s a royal bitch, but that would also be stupid. She shouldn’t treat you like that. But… Maybe you should feel things out before you tell her what happened with Will. If she doesn’t like you already, that wouldn’t help. At least the girlfriend is nice?_

_It might not even matter though, right? You may not ever see them again._

_And really, don’t feel bad about talking to me about this stuff. I’m just sorry I can’t be there in person to help._

_Sincerely,_

_Danny_

_P.S. Mel and I went to the park the other day and we took some pictures. I know it’s not the same as being here, but I hope you like them._

* * *

 

It only takes Kirsch a couple of days to figure out that not only is it very doable for him to move in with Laura and Carmilla, but he also _really_ wants to. Once Laura made the offer, it was all he could think about. He knows he can’t stay with his mom forever and it would be stupid of him not to take the opportunity, even if it’s just temporary. Right?

He reasons that it would be no different than moving in with a stranger, anyway. It just so happens to be that he shares a common bond with Laura and Carmilla, and he does get some money from the army still, as well as disability. It’s not as though he can’t contribute.

After he talks it over with his mom and makes a decision, he calls Laura right away to let her know. The fact that she sounds so happy about it only encourages him. This is a good move for him, and maybe he can start figuring out how to put his life together.

The look on Carmilla’s face after he and Laura arrive with all of his shit is… less encouraging.

“What the hell is _that?”_ Carmilla asks with a sharp hiss, pointing at the duffel bag he has slung over his shoulder. He struggled with it a little when he was walking up to the door, but he kind of feels like he has bigger concerns when his new roommate is glaring at him so intensely.

“Um,” he explains eloquently, his eyes wide.

“Kirsch, have you got that?” Laura asks, close behind with one of his boxes. She had gone so far as to drive to Fremont to pick him up and help him pack the car. His mom loved her immediately, too, but Kirsch thought she seemed a little disappointed when Laura mentioned her girlfriend. “Come on, I’ll show you where your room is so you can drop that off.”

“Excuse me, what are you talking about?” Carmilla speaks up again, urgency rising in her voice as Laura pulls Kirsch further into the small townhouse that the two of them share. “He’s just here for lunch, isn’t he?”

Laura takes his bag from him and sets it by the couch, chewing on her bottom lip as she turns her gaze back to Carmilla. Kirsch keeps his mouth shut, afraid that if he makes any sudden moves Carmilla will pounce on him. She looks like she might barely weigh more than a hundred pounds wet, but he’s terrified of her.

Carmilla raises her eyebrows pointedly when Laura doesn’t answer. _“Isn’t he?”_

Laura turns to Kirsch as she moves to Carmilla’s side, moving to stand between them. “You know, there’s sandwiches in the kitchen. Why don’t you get started on lunch, and then we’ll be right back to help you bring your stuff in.”

“Oh. Uh, okay.” He looks between the two of them like a deer caught in headlights. “I can do that.”

Laura continues to steer Carmilla down the hall, who still looks like she might attack him. “Great! We’ll be right back. Promise.”

And with that, they disappear into one of the rooms in the back of the house and Kirsch barely hears more than _“Laura, I swear to god—”_ before the door slams shut.

So that’s a good sign.

He looks around the house for a moment, noting the clean design and homey touches here and there. There’s a lamp on the table next to him that’s shaped like an owl and a sign on the wall that, despite his current worries, actually does read _“this is a good sign.”_ He’d probably laugh at the irony if he wasn’t so nervous.

Kirsch slowly hobbles to the kitchen to make a sandwich while he decidedly ignores the angry noises coming from down the hall. He’s pretty sure he hears something about ‘taking in stray dogs.’ That’s a little rude, but he’s mostly concerned that Carmilla’s going to just kick him out when he's barely been there ten minutes.

He’s halfway through a turkey sandwich when Laura and Carmilla reappear. Laura has a forced smile plastered on her face that looks a little too big to actually be comfortable, while Carmilla continues to glare daggers at him.

He stands up as soon as they walk into the kitchen, a little slowly since he still uses his cane to help. “I was gonna make sandwiches for you guys, but I wasn’t sure what you’d want on them.”

“Oh, that’s nonsense, Kirsch,” Laura assures him immediately, going to the counter so she can start to assemble sandwiches for herself and Carmilla. “You’re our guest, there’s no need. Right, Carmilla?”

“Well, if he’s going to be living here,” Carmilla starts through gritted teeth, “we can’t really call him our guest, now can we?”

Kirsch perks up immediately, a smile lighting up his face. “I can stay?”

Carmilla rolls her eyes, crossing her legs under the table. “Jesus christ, yes. Now stop looking at me like that, I can practically see you wagging your tail.”

“I promise you won’t regret this, Carmilla,” he tells her immediately, sitting down again. “I’ll help out with chores and stuff and I can pay rent. It’ll be like renting to anyone else, really.”

Carmilla doesn’t look like she’s completely convinced, but she stays silent. Kirsch kind of wonders what Laura said to convince her to let him stay.

“Your house is really great, by the way. It’s nice here, I like it. How did you find it? I thought these townhouses were pretty expensive.”

Carmilla clears her throat as Laura crosses back to the table, setting a plate down in front of her girlfriend before sitting beside her.

“Yeah, Will paid for it,” she replies dryly, picking up her sandwich. “So you can thank him for getting himself blown up.”

Kirsch is confused at first, but then the sudden realization hits him. Carmilla must have been his benefactor, and so she’d bought this house with the money that the government had paid out after he...

Kirsch puts his sandwich down, not nearly so hungry anymore. Laura sends Carmilla a disapproving stare.

“Oh,” he replies, blinking down at his plate.

“That’s not gonna be a problem, is it?” Carmilla asks, arching a brow at him. _“Bro?”_

He shakes his head and picks up his sandwich again. He doesn’t want to seem ungrateful, which he certainly isn’t. “No, of course not.”

“Good,” she replies, picking up her own sandwich. “So hurry up and finish your sandwich so we can lug all of your shit inside. You’re lucky we already have a bed for you.”

* * *

It only takes a day before he embarrasses himself royally in front of Carmilla. Honestly, he probably should have known better than to get into a fight with a door, but he’d been determined.

The townhouse is pretty old, and like any old house, it has its quirks. Particularly, the door to the bathroom sticks and Kirsch has had a few close calls already. He’s had to completely re-learn how to balance himself on what feels like one stilt, and while he’s generally fine as long as he has his cane, he’s started to try to get around the house without it for the most part. He’s been fairly successful, but the bathroom door is a pain in his ass, which just doesn’t seem fair.

In this particular instance, the door had gotten stuck with him on the inside. Normally he can push against it a few times and it’ll finally give, but this time it doesn’t budge. Eventually he has to practically ram himself against it and he loses his footing after the door flies open. He winds up in a pile on the floor right in front of Carmilla, who had been on her way to the kitchen.

He stares up at her with wide eyes and there’s a beat of silence before she cracks and doubles over in laughter. _“Jesus,_ Kirsch.”

Kirsch grumbles a little as he tries to pull himself up off the floor. It takes him a minute and he’s a little surprised that she doesn’t even offer to help. Instead she just stands there, still laughing.

“You alright there, twinkletoes?” she asks with a grin, folding her arms across her chest.

Kirsch rolls his eyes as he sets himself right again, having to push against the wall and use the doorknob to get back on his feet. He can at least be proud of the fact that he doesn’t need her help to get up. “Yeah, just dandy.”

“Great,” she smirks as she pushes past him to the kitchen down the hall. “I was going to step over you if it took you much longer to get up, you’d think you were eighty. Do we need to get you life alert?”

He shakes his head as he follows after her, a little hungry himself. “Hilarious.”

“I thought so,” she smirks, looking back at him as she makes a beeline for the fridge.

So maybe she’s a little rude, but he’s glad that she doesn’t seem quite so violently angry with him all the time anymore. And honestly, she might be the first person he’s met since coming home that doesn’t treat him like he’s made of glass. It feels good to be treated like a person again, even if that means being teased when he falls on his ass. Besides, he almost definitely looked ridiculous, he probably would have laughed, too.

At the very least, it’s a major improvement. He’s okay with that.

* * *

_Danny,_

_Thank you. I think I just don’t want to be a burden, but I’m glad I can talk to you. Kinda sucks that you’re in Germany._

_Update: I’m pretty sure that Will’s sister (her name is Carmilla) still hates me, but hey funny story, we’re roommates now. And her girlfriend too, her girlfriend Laura is also here. Laura's still super nice. That’s actually how I ended up staying with them, Laura called to check up on me. I dunno, it just kind of happened I guess? I’ll let you know if Carmilla tries to murder me in my sleep._

_So uh, yeah. I probably won’t be telling Carmilla about what happened with Will. At least not yet. But maybe I should tell her eventually. I kind of think she deserves to know. I think I’d want to know, if it was me. But yeah, I’ll wait until after she doesn’t hate me so much, probably._

_It feels good to be out of my mom’s house though. I love my mom, like REALLY I love her, but it felt like I was wasting time. I felt like I was getting stuck again, like if I didn’t get out I was going to start suffocating. That’s weird, right?_

_These pictures are awesome, I’m glad you guys are having a good time. I’ll try to get some good pictures of San Francisco the next time I get a chance. I think Laura mentioned something about going to the zoo? I’m pretty sure she thinks I should get out more, and she’s probably not wrong. I’ll get some pictures if we go._

_Sincerely,_

_Kirsch_

* * *

Moving out of his mom’s house feels great. It’s like he really is getting somewhere, finally, and the independence is good. Laura still hovers, but she works most days writing for one of the major local culture magazines in San Francisco, so most of the time it’s just him and Carmilla at home. Carmilla works as well, though not as frequently. Her job as a public relations consultant allows her to work from home a lot of the time. Kirsch is pretty sure she mentioned going back to school for her master’s degree eventually, which is a little intimidating when he thinks about how he barely graduated high school. He’s pretty sure everything about Carmilla is intimidating.

It’s easy to find a rhythm, though. He learns pretty early on to stay out of Carmilla’s way, especially when she’s working or when she has to deal with her boss. He spends a lot of his time playing video games, honestly, which is not all that different from when he’d been home. The biggest difference is that on the weekends Laura is determined to cart Kirsch around to every major tourist attraction in the greater San Francisco area. In the month or so that’s he’s been with them, they’ve already been to the Golden Gate Bridge, the zoo, and the beach, as well as several restaurants that Laura swears by. They even have plans for more, and Kirsch has to admit that actually going out and doing things has not only given him a lot more practice walking, but he feels better. Things aren’t perfect, and he still gets frustrated, but the change is liberating.

Even if he still spends most weekdays in pajamas.

(It’s easier than getting dressed.)

He’s camped out on the couch one afternoon when Carmilla sweeps in, turning off the TV and folding her arms as she glares down at him.

“Hey!” Kirsch protests, turning around to meet her glare. “That was Jurassic Park! The T-Rex was just about to escape and fuck everything up.”

“How long have you been wearing that?” she asks him pointedly, gesturing to his basketball shorts.

“Uh…”

“Gross,” she groans, her lip curling. “Come on, go take a shower and get dressed. We’re going out.”

Kirsch blinks up at her with wide eyes. He doesn’t think that Carmilla has once offered to take him anywhere. Even on the weekends, she only comes along because Laura insists. He’s pretty sure there’s bribery involved. “... What?”

_“Out._ You know, to a bar?” she explains to him, one eyebrow arched. “When was the last time you went out? Aside from Laura’s stunning weekend day-time adventures.”

Kirsch shrugs, grabbing his cane so can have a little help hoisting himself up. “Not since coming home. The last time I went out, we had to call our sergeant to pick up one of the other recruits from the drunk tank.”

“One of the _other_ recruits, right,” Carmilla smirks.

“Hey, it wasn’t me,” he argues, mildly offended. “I know how to hold my liquor, okay. I mean, I like beer better, but.”

Carmilla scrunches her nose, following him down the hall. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those craft beer assholes.”

Kirsch makes a face, stopping at the door to his room. “No, I mean. Beer is beer. Sure, some beer is better than other beer, but why fuck with it?”

She arches an eyebrow at him, amused. “Fair enough. Go take a shower and get dressed so we can go.”

“Sir, yes sir,” he grins, opening the door to his room and hobbling through so he can get ready. Despite suddenness of this development, he can’t say he’s upset about it. This is the first time he’s actually held something resembling a real conversation with Carmilla. She probably still hates him, but it’s a start, right?

 

* * *

_Kirsch,_

_I’m glad that you’ve been able to get out and see so many things with Laura and Carmilla. These pictures you sent are really awesome. I’ve never been to the Golden Gate Bridge, but it looks amazing. Carmilla sure looks really enthusiastic in all of these pictures though, doesn’t she? She seems... fun._

_How have you been adjusting? It’s good that you were able to move out, nobody wants to feel like they’re stuck. Living with roommates can be a whole other adventure, though, let me tell you. Either you get along great, or they make your life a living nightmare, I’m pretty sure there is no in-between. I sincerely hope this doesn’t turn out like the latter for you, you could really stand to catch a break, I think._

_So, guess what? I’ve decided that when my contract is up in six months, I won’t re-enlist. I’m gonna try coming home, at least for a while. It’ll be weird, but I’ve been thinking and I realized that I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in the military. So much of my life has already been wrapped up in this, and I want to see the other side. Talking to you has helped a lot with that, so, thank you._

_I broke the news to my parents yesterday and they’re… fine, I think. My mom says she’ll be glad to have me home, but who knows with my dad. It’s so hard to get a read on him over the phone. So that’s...great. I think I might try to do some traveling when I get back, though. I can’t remember the last time I got to go somewhere just for the hell of it. It’s kind of exciting? I still haven’t decided where I’ll go first. Knowing my parents, I’ll probably want to get out of D.C. as soon as I can._

_Send me more pictures of your adorable “family” outings, I kinda miss your ugly mug._

_Danny_


	5. if the sky opened up and started pouring rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hey, I already had most of this written, this and chapter 4 were originally meant to all go together so yaaaaaay quick update. A lot of tears were shed writing this chapter. I cried, my beta cried, Kirsch cried, and I'm pretty sure that's some kind of record. No one was injured, though, except for me when cat decided that my foot had offended her while I was trying to edit this last night. But that's irrelevant. Many thanks to my wonderful beta, chiltongirlsdoitbetter!
> 
> This chapter's title is from "Daisy" by Brand New.

 

It takes him more time than most people to shower and get dressed. He has to take off his prosthetic and then put it back on afterward, which is an ordeal all on its own. He’s ready eventually, though, and he comes back out of his room to find Carmilla boredly staring at her phone.

_“Finally,”_ she huffs exasperatedly, pulling herself up and shoving her phone back into her pocket. “Holy hell, Captain Morgan.”

“Captain Morgan, really?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. “Is he even missing a leg?”

Carmilla shrugs with a smirk. “We are going out drinking, aren’t we?”

Kirsch rolls his eyes, shifting his grip on his cane. “Whatever, dude. I don’t even drink rum that often.”

“Right, cause you’re a _beer guy,”_ she replies, remembering. She grabs her keys off the hook on the wall next to the front door. “Let me guess, football is your favorite sport.”

“Why does everyone say that?” he asks as he follows her out to the car. He’s starting to wonder if he should be offended. “So what if I like football? Football is the most popular sport in America.”

Carmilla laughs, shaking her head. “It’s just… You’re kind of a walking stereotype. _Dude.”_

“Because I like football?” He raises an eyebrow at her, sliding into the passenger seat next to her.

“That and you talk like a frat boy and you play video games all the time,” she points out, turning the ignition. “You’re ex-military and you’re a beer enthusiast. I’m half expecting to wake up one day to you drunkenly building a pool in our back yard. We don’t even have a back yard.”

He raises his eyebrows at her, amused. “Jeez, Carmilla. Tell me how you really feel.”

“Are you surprised?” she counters. “You’re like an overgrown puppy. One that slobbers.”

“So, that’s all there is to me, right? You’ve got me all figured out.”

“I just find myself unsurprised that you’re a football enthusiast, frat boy.”

He tilts his head at her. “I didn’t know I was supposed to be proving something to you.”

“Yeah, well,” she replies dryly, shrugging. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunity to wow me with your staggering emotional depth.”

Kirsch shakes his head, laughing. He isn’t really sure if he knows what she means by that, him being a walking stereotype, but he’s pretty sure that she probably shouldn't be one to talk. But he’d also like to keep the rest of his limbs in place, so he doesn’t say anything.

The rest of the drive to the bar is relatively quiet, with only Carmilla’s bouts of mild road rage and the death metal blaring through the car speakers to break up the silence.

(It’s surprisingly easy to sit in silence with Carmilla.)

When they pull up to the bar, Carmilla pulls out her phone again and waits at the hood of the car while Kirsch follows after her a little slower.

“So, uh,” he starts as they approach the front door. Carmilla pulls it open and walks through first, making sure it’s still open for him as he follows. “Do you come to this bar often?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that sounds like a bad pick-up line,” she points out, stepping up to the bar.

It’s a weekday, so the bar is relatively quiet. Just a few people here and there grabbing a drink after work or playing darts. Kirsch isn’t really sure what. he expected, but he’s pleasantly surprised by the dive. He kind of figured that Carmilla might take him to some trendy nightlife spot, but this is better.

He nods toward one of the pool tables in the corner as Carmilla opens up a tab for them. “Do you play?”

She follows his eyeline and turns back to him with a smirk. “I dunno, sarge. It’s probably not nice kick a cripple’s ass.”

“Like you’ve ever worried about being nice,” Kirsch shoots back, taking his beer from the bartender. “Besides, don’t think I won’t bring my a-game just because you’re the size of a kitten.”

“Whatever you say, Lurch,” she replies, grabbing her own drink so she can lead him back to the pool table. “I’ll be happy to hand your ass to you if you’re buying.”

He shakes his head at her as he pulls out his wallet, feeding a few coins into the pool table so it releases the balls. He pulls them out and starts to set up the game. “Yeah alright, Karnstein. Just break.”

As it turns out, Carmilla is very good at pool. It’s not like he can’t keep up, but he’s still a little surprised. Maybe he shouldn’t be.

(And maybe he shouldn’t have downed six beers quite so fast. And on a relatively empty stomach. So much for being able to hold his liquor.)

“You’re funny, you know that Carmilla?” he tells her, cradling his seventh beer as she takes a shot at the eight-ball. “Like seriously, you’re so funny. You’re mean, but it’s funny.”

Carmilla takes the shot, narrowly missing the corner pocket. He still has two other balls to sink before he can go after the eight-ball, though. She stands straight again and narrows her eyes at him. “I thought you said you could hold your liquor, champ.”

“Well, yeah, but I haven’t eaten like anything today. I think I had chips,” he explains to her, his words slurring just a little bit. “Also, like. I don’t think I’ve had this much to drink since before I blew my leg off. Do you think that made it worse? Like… What if I could only hold my liquor because I had two feet and now I don’t anymore. Like Samson!”

“From the bible?” Carmilla laughs. “I didn’t know you were such a good Christian boy.”

“I mean. I’m not, not really,” he explains, trying to focus on the cue ball in front of him. “My mom goes to church all the time and she used to tell me all the stories but I only remember that one because Samson was like a rockstar or something.”

“You know that the story of Samson is about the folly of man and the dangers of falling to temptation, don’t you?”

“Yeah, cause that Delilah chick was hot, right?”

“Something like that. I’m pretty sure Samson died.”

“So, it’s not exactly the same,” he agrees, rolling his eyes. “But my missing leg is kind of about the folly of man or whatever too.”

“Yeah, that’s probably worse than a haircut.”

“Dude, you have no idea.” He misses his shot and he makes a face at the four ball as it bounces off the edge of the table. “Do you know how hard it is to do shit when you have to hold onto a cane all the time? Or like. When a stiff breeze might push you over. It fucking sucks.”

“You seem to be making an improvement, though,” she points out, sipping on her own drink. “Pretty soon you’ll be hobbling around like a regular Long John Silver.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” he exclaims, slapping the edge of the table and bringing his hand up to point at her. “I’m not even a pirate!”

“Yeah, it’s called a joke.”

“Who makes fun of crippled war veterans? Besides you, I mean. But I’m not even mad about that.”

She tilts her head at him, amused. “You’re not?”

He shakes his head, swaying a little. “Everyone treats me like I'm a kid again. Or like I might break. You treat me like you treat everyone else.”

“That is shockingly profound for a caveman, Kirsch.”

“See?” he grins, spreading his hands wide. “You thought you had me all figured out, but you’re surprised. Admit it, Carmilla Karnstein.”

Carmilla laughs and rolls her eyes, bending over the pool table to line up another shot. “One small moment of clarity does not make you a beacon of bro wisdom. Also, you’re drunk.”

“What if I talk like a pirate for the rest of the night? Will that make you like me? You’re the one who keeps making pirate jokes.”

“Please don’t.”

“What’s a pirate’s favorite letter?”

“Kirsch, I swear to go-”

“The sea, _yarrrgh!”_

 

* * *

**  
**So maybe those last few beers were a bad idea. By the time Laura arrives to pick them both up, he can barely stay upright. He’s six-foot-two, and even though he’s missing a leg, that’s a lot of weight to carry. He still feels kind of bad about the fact that it took both Laura and Carmilla to help him out to the car. **  
**

(The next morning, they insist it wasn’t a problem, but Kirsch feels like the only reason Carmilla isn’t mad is because now she probably has a lifetime of blackmail material on him. He’s never gonna hear the end of it.)

Weirdly enough, though, it’s fairly easy to figure out where he stands with Carmilla after that. They probably aren’t best friends, or anything (because that would be weird, right?) but she’s at least friendly with him. And she actually smiles around him sometimes, rather than just glaring holes into him. Until that night, the only person he’d seen make her really smile (not just one dripping with sarcasm) was Laura. And that’s a win, isn’t it?

So Carmilla is a little less reluctant to hang out with him, after that. She doesn’t drag her feet on their weekly outings, either. Kirsch still spends a lot of his time on the couch playing video games, but he feels like less of a weird permanent fixture in their lives. Like maybe they actually kind of enjoy having him around.

Carmilla even plops down next to him while he’s playing _Grand Theft Auto_ one day, and he starts to think that maybe she’s not so scary, after all.

“What is this stupid game you’re always playing?” she asks him, tossing him a grape soda as she sinks onto the couch next to him, something that she’s never voluntarily done before.

“Uh, are you kidding?” he asks, an eyebrow shooting up as he cracks the can open. “I’ve been here, what, almost two months? How do you not know what Grand Theft Auto is?”

“Is this that stupid game that everyone thinks turns people into criminals?”

“Yeah, if maybe if you work for Fox News,” he scoffs. “I mean, it’s hyper violent and… Yeah, okay it doesn’t exactly portray women all that great but it’s crazy fun.”

She raises her eyebrows at him. “You’re really selling the redeeming qualities of this game to me, champ.”

“No, I mean– It’s satire, right? Like no one actually thinks that any of this is _good._ Like it’s not about being a good person, it’s about shining a light on some of the awful things about society,” he argues. He grabs the controller, holding it out to her. “Here, try it. You’ll see what I mean.”

She considers the controller in front of her carefully, before reaching out to take it.

“Okay. So, there’s a lot of buttons, but this triangle will let you steal a car, and this lets you steer,” he explains. It takes a few more minutes to explain the rest of the controls, but she’s a surprisingly fast learner.

In ten minutes, she already has a five-star wanted level and she’s working on stealing a tank.

_“Holy shit!”_ Kirsch swears, on the edge of his seat with eyes as wide as dinner plates. “Dude, watch your flank, there’s a cop down that way.”

“Yeah yeah, I see that bastard,” she assures him, swiftly arming herself so she can shotgun the cop.

“Are you sure you’ve never played this before?” he asks, his voice pitched a little higher than normal. He can’t believe how fast she’s getting the hang of this.

“Will used to have a Playstation,” she explains, making her character climb into the abandoned tank. “Sometimes I’d watch and he’d make me play some of the shooting games with him.”

“Oh,” he says, his stomach sinking. So this was something that she used to do with Will. No wonder she used to scowl at him so much for taking over the TV. “You miss him.”

She pauses the game, falling silent for a moment. When he looks up, she’s got her eyebrows furrowed and she looks like she barely remembers that he’s there.

“Yeah, I really miss him,” she finally replies. She holds the controller out, giving it back to him. “I understood why Will joined the army, but I never liked it. It was supposed to be temporary.”

He frowns, setting the controller on the coffee table in front of him. Maybe that was enough for today. “Look, I know it’s not a lot, but… If there was anything I could do to bring him back, I’d do it. No question, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Carmilla gives him a tight-lipped smile and moves to get up. Kirsch gets the feeling that Carmilla isn’t the type to share feelings. He can understand that.

“I’m going to start dinner,” she tells him, her expression still stony. “Are you gonna come help me, or were you planning on sitting on your ass all day again?”

It takes him almost a full ten seconds before he comprehends that this is Carmilla’s version of an olive branch. “Uh no, yeah! Be right there.”

“Great,” she replies, turning around toward the kitchen the next room over. “By the time you get there I’ll probably have potatoes for you to peel, or whatever.”

He smiles to himself, taking his time to get up so he can follow after her. When Laura comes home an hour later to the two of them laughing in the kitchen, she looks like she’s walked into the Twilight Zone. But that’s probably because it really does feel like the Twilight Zone. But like, a good one. Not the kind where everyone meets a terrible yet ironically fitting demise. (He hopes.)

* * *

_Danny,_

_Dude that’s great! How long has it been since the last time you were a civilian? Will you be home in six months, then? Do you think you’ll get a job as a nurse at like a hospital, or something? You can use me as a personal reference or whatever. I’ll tell them you have great jokes._

_Things are starting to go really well with Laura and Carmilla, I think. Like it’s still kind of weird but I think it would’ve been weird no matter what. And it’s still kind of hard to read Carmilla but I think things are getting better? Murder no longer seems likely at least._

_I’ll definitely get more pictures for you the next time we go somewhere. Laura was all over that idea, so it should be pretty easy. She seemed kind of curious about you, actually. Carmilla keeps saying that I made you up, but she’s a jerk._

_And uh—hey, maybe if you’re traveling you might come visit? Like if you want to and you’re not sure where to go first. San Francisco is really cool and Laura knows all the best places to go around here. She writes for one of the local culture magazines so she’s got like a list of cool things to do at all times. I mean, you know, if you wanted to. It might be cool. You could come see some of these places yourself._

_And I kinda miss you too. You’ve been a really good friend to me._

_Kirsch_

* * *

The next morning, Kirsch wakes up to Carmilla banging on his door and shouting at him to get up. He usually sleeps in pretty late, and once he’s fumbled around to find his phone, he sees that it’s only still only eleven. He furrows his brows, confused.

“Kirsch, come on,” Carmilla sighs as she finally barges in, exasperated.

“Carmilla, what the hell!” he yelps, pulling his blankets up to better cover himself. He practically almost topples out of bed, which wouldn’t actually be that hard, considering that he barely fits in the twin-sized mattress that he’s been sleeping on.

“Please, _bro-magnon,_ it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Besides, you really don’t need to worry about me leching on you, you’re not exactly my type. Come on, you have physical therapy today and I thought we could get lunch first.”

“... Isn’t Laura taking me?” he asks, confused. Laura’s always the one who takes him. Ever since he’d started staying with them, Laura had switched her schedule around specifically so that she could help him get to his appointments.

“It’s a little silly, don’t you think?” she points out, impatiently leaning against the door-frame. “Why make Laura come all the way back when I can just take you? Problem solved.”

He still doesn’t understand, but he knows better than to question it. “Oh. Okay.”

She furrows her brows at him, like she’s only just noticed something, tilting her head. “Have you always been sleeping in this bed? You look ridiculous, and you barely fit. You look like you’re trying to fit on a toddler’s bed.”

“Yes?” he replies, looking down at himself. Okay, so maybe his one good leg dangles off the end, and it’s kind of hard to spread out like he’d like to, but he knows better than to complain.

“Jesus, that cannot be comfortable,” she tsks, shaking her head. “Come on, hurry up. We’ll have to find a mattress store after your appointment.”

Kirsch sits up, careful to make sure the blankets are still generally covering his important bits. “What? Carmilla, no, it’s fine. I can’t just drop money on a new bed se–”

“Who said anything about _you_ paying for it?” she cuts in, looking at him like she’s pointing out the obvious. “It’s fine, we’ve still got some of Uncle Sam’s money left over, and you’re supposed to be in recovery. You can’t tell me that sleeping in a bed made for a child is good for your health.”

He reaches for a pair of his shorts on the floor, trying to pull them on under the blankets. He has to admit that his back has been hurting a bit. “Well, no. But–”

“Great, I’m glad you agree. Now seriously, hurry up,” she smirks, giving him one more once-over. “And Kirsch?”

He looks up at her from the bed, pulling on the sleeve that goes over his residual limb before his prosthetic leg. “Yeah?”

“Nice privates, private. Are those Captain America shields on your boxers?”

* * *

_Kirsch,_

_Honestly it’s been so long since I’ve lived anywhere but an army base that I don’t remember what it’s like. And that was really just for college. So it’s been a few years? I might not remember how to be a civilian._

_The hope is that I’ll find a job at a hospital once I get home, but I’m not really worrying about that right away. I kind of want to take it easy, at least at first. We’ll see how long that lasts. My parents don’t really know the meaning of “vacation” so I don’t either._

_Carmilla sounds like a jerk. But at least she doesn’t want to murder you, I guess. Laura sounds like a total sweetheart, though. How does that even work?_

_You know, I might like San Francisco. I remember going to California once with my family on one of the two or three family vacations we’ve ever had. Although we went to southern California. We did the whole Disneyland thing and everything. I was maybe ten? It’s the only time we ever did anything like that with all three of us. I remember liking California, though. It was almost 15 years ago, but still._

_I’ll keep you posted, but I can probably put that on the list. It’d be cool to see you again after everything._

_Sincerely,_

_Danny_

 

* * *

It takes a little work to get a brand new queen-sized mattress into Kirsch’s room, but between the three of them, they manage.

(Laura was a little surprised to come home to a new mattress on her doorstep, but Carmilla’s almost casual “the rescue dog has outgrown his toddler bed” explanation was enough to placate her.)

And Kirsch tries not to think too hard about the fact that Carmilla is regularly taking him to his appointments instead of Laura nowadays. He figures it’s probably more convenient for everyone, but he’s not sure exactly what’s changed.

That weekend, Laura drags the two of them to the pier and Carmilla wastes no time before she’s teasing him for bringing his “grandpa cane.”

“Okay, what the name of Godric Gryffindor is happening here?” comes Laura's outburst, pointing between the two of them. “When did you guys start acting like Timon and Pumbaa?”

Carmilla and Kirsch share a confused glance before they look back to Laura again.

“He’s Pumbaa, right?” Carmilla asks, pointing at Kirsch.

“I’m serious!” Laura tells them both, folding her arms. “A few weeks ago I could barely get you two to look at each other!”

Kirsch shrugs, not really sure how to answer that questions. Truthfully, he can’t even put a finger on what exactly had changed, either.

Carmilla gives a small laugh and shakes her head. “Cupcake, would you rather we be at each other’s throats?”

“No, but… I’m just confused,” she sighs, pouting a little. Kirsch kinda thinks it might more than just the oddity of their sudden friendship and he sends Carmilla a questioning look.

“Hey, we just managed to find common ground, that’s all,” Carmilla assures her girlfriend, slipping one arm around Laura’s waist. “If you think this meathead could even remotely replace you, then I think you might need to get your head checked. I hear Kirsch’s shrink is pretty good.”

Laura rolls her eyes but pulls Carmilla closer anyway, nuzzling her nose against Carmilla’s collar.

Kirsch decides to look away, not wanting to intrude on what is probably a private moment. He busies himself by adjusting the sock that he wears under his prosthetic. Eventually he straightens and clears his throat. “So were we gonna go get a hot dog, or…?”

Carmilla pulls away from Laura and sends him a glare, to which he responds with a grin. “Do you ever think about anything other than food?”

“Nope,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Come on, you guys can make me suffer as your third wheel once I can stuff my face.”

* * *

_Danny,_

_Civilian life is totally weird. I think it would probably be weird even if I had come home all in one piece. It’s like, I can do whatever the hell I want, but when there’s no one there to tell me what to do with my time I don’t actually know what I want? It’s weird. I play a lot of video games, since it’s better than letting it get too quiet. I dunno, though. I hope it’ll be a little easier for you to adjust._

_Carmilla is definitely a jerk, but she and Laura kind of just work? Like really well, and I don’t get it either, but it definitely works for them. They’ve been good to me._

_Oh dude, it’s been ages since I’ve been to Disneyland. It’s far enough away that it’s hard to make a trip of it, so I haven’t been there since I was in high school. Dude if you end up coming to California maybe we should go. It might be fun, right? Plus I’m pretty sure I’d be able to get to the front of the line for everything. I hadn’t actually thought about that until just now._

_It’s totally up to you, though. It would be seriously cool to see you again and to talk to you and hang out without beeping machines surrounding us. And, you know, maybe somewhere where I’m not wearing a hospital gown._

_So yeah, just keep me posted. I mean, it’s still gonna be a while until you come back anyway. But it would be cool._

_Sincerely,_

_Kirsch_

* * *

It’s been almost four months since Kirsch has started physical therapy, and he thinks he’s finally starting to feel almost like a normal human being again. His therapist, Dr. Armitage, says he’s making recovery look easy and that’s enough to put a little more fire in his desire to get better. He barely even uses his cane anymore, except for on bad days or when he knows he’ll be on his feet for a long time. If anything, carrying it around feels more like a nuisance, these days. It’s liberating to have one of his hands back again, instead of constantly needing to carry a cane. But even with all of his progress, he still sometimes fucks up.

Stairs, in particular, suck more than anything else. There’s a small flight of cement steps outside his psychiatrist's that has been a pain in his ass ever since he started going there. There’s no railing, so he knows he has to be careful, but recently he’s been getting a little cocky about leaving his cane at home. If he’d known that it was going to rain, though, he probably would have brought it along.

He stares up at the sky after his hour-long session with Dr. Perry like the weather has decided to spite him personally. Walking has become far less of an obstacle, but the prospect of taking on a stretch of wet pavement without a cane feels as terrifyingly intimidating as the thought of jumping out of a plane. Carmilla comes to greet him at the door with an umbrella, but that still doesn’t do much for him. Getting wet isn’t exactly his main concern, here.

She raises her eyebrows at him in silent question and he responds quickly with a nod. He’s okay, he can do this.

Or at least, he might have been fine if it weren’t for those fucking stairs.

Without a railing or his cane, one slip is enough send him to the ground. It’s stupid and embarrassing and he scrapes his good leg up a little, but most importantly it’s frustrating as hell. Who puts stairs in front of a doctor’s office without making them handicap-friendly? Or without adding a ramp? He probably should have complained to someone ages ago about it.

“Fuck, Kirsch, are you alright?” Carmilla asks, rushing to his side and reaching out to help him up.

Krisch jerks away from her hand, gaping up at her like she slapped him instead. Carmilla has never once helped him up. She makes sure that he’s okay, yeah, but that’s different. She’s been the only person that doesn’t treat him like he needs help with everything.

She stops, her hand hovering in the air a moment before she pulls it back again. Instead, she holds out the umbrella so it can at least block the rain and crosses her free arm across her chest. She clears her throat expectantly. “Well, aren’t you going to get up? Come on, it’s raining. If you get hypothermia, I’m not spooning you.”

He gives her a wry smile as he struggles to push himself up. The rain only makes it worse, and he’s pretty sure they’re both soaked by the time he actually gets back on his feet, but he’s smiling once he’s standing straight again.

“There you are, London Bridge,” she smirks, squinting against the rain. She’s almost as wet as he is since she’d tried to use the umbrella to keep him dry rather than herself.

“You look like a wet cat,” he tells her, laughing. “And you weigh like ten pounds. I think if anyone is getting hypothermia it’s prooobably going to be you.”

“It’s not a competition,” she argues, rolling her eyes. “Let’s just go home instead of standing out here in the rain like idiots.”

He laughs, shaking his head. Carmilla does a really good job pretending to be apathetic and unaffected most of the time, but he’s starting to know better. After all, it wasn’t a secret that Will loved his sister. He didn’t really understand at first, but he thinks now he gets it. “After you, sexy.”

_“Gross,_ don’t call me that.”

* * *

_Kirsch,_

_Jeez, I can’t even imagine what it was like coming back home for you. I mean, I can a little from what you’ve told me, but I think you probably had a few more obstacles than I’ll have. You should be proud of yourself for everything you’ve been able to do. I know I’m proud of you._

_Yeah, I’ll probably have way less on my plate when I get back. If anything, it’ll just be weird for a while, I think. I haven’t lived with my parents in ages._

_Haha you know what, if I come to visit you in San Francisco, we can absolutely plan a trip to Disneyland. Let’s do it. It would be kind of awesome to just bypass all the lines, so that’s a pretty cool perk? I mean, after everything you’ve been through, at the very least they’ll let you skip to the front of the line. Okay, shit. That actually sounds pretty fun. I might have to consider this pretty seriously now. You may have just bumped yourself to the top of the list._

_I think it would be really nice to be able to get to know you outside of the hospital, too. I mean we never really got that chance, did we? It’s been nice to keep in contact with you this way, but it’s not really the same._

_So yeah. Maybe if I can make it work I’ll come visit you first. Gotta start somewhere, right?_

_Sincerely,_

_Danny_

* * *

“Kirsch, are you listening?”

Kirsch snaps back to attention, lifting his head to meet Dr. Perry’s strikingly blue eyes. He knows that she was saying something important, but his attention must have drifted again. That seems to happen a lot more often since he’s been home.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, wincing. He really meant to pay attention, but whenever he tries to talk to her about this stuff, his mind has a habit of wandering to places that he spends most of his time trying to avoid. “That was important, wasn’t it? I think… I dunno, I think I got lost again.”

“I can see that,” she replies, tilting her head at him. “That seems to happen a lot when we bring up Private Luce.”

Kirsch looks away again, frowning. He doesn’t really like to think about how much talking about Will still affects him. Even though he’s surrounded by constant reminders of Will, it still feels different. He’d never known Will as a civilian so it’s easy enough to compartmentalize. The Will that Carmilla had lost almost doesn’t feel like the same man that saved his life.

“It’s weird, you know?” he tells her, pulling at a thread that had come loose on the edge of his shorts. If his mom were here, she’d probably scold him since they were new shorts. “Will was one of the best friends I’ve ever had and it’s like I never even knew him. I find out new things about him all the time and I never got the chance to get any of this from him. It was different when we were in the desert.”

“You’re talking with Carmilla about Will, then?” Perry asks expectantly, raising her eyebrows at him.

He shrugs in response, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Kind of, I guess? I don’t think she really likes to talk about it. The fact that we both knew him is… I dunno, it’s this big thing between us that we never talk about. It’s like neither of us can look directly at it. But it just comes up sometimes, you know? Like the other day, Carmilla was in her study playing this beat up old guitar, right? And she played really well so I asked her about it. She told me that it was Will’s old guitar. I didn’t even know he played.”

“You and Will both had jobs to do, in the army,” she reminds him gently. “There likely wasn’t time to learn everything about each other. That doesn’t make him any less your friend.”

“I know,” Kirsch sighs. He stares at his hands in his lap, chewing on his bottom lip. “I guess it just reminds me that she lost so much more when he died. I’d do anything to bring him back.”

He pauses, furrowing his brows. He’s quieter when he starts speaking again. “I still think it should have been me.”

_“Kirsch–”_

“I know,” he cuts in, stopping her before she can get any further. “I know, okay? I’m not supposed to talk like that or think like that. I mean, sure, things are getting better, I guess. But that doesn’t mean all that much when I think about what saving my life cost Carmilla and Laura. Carmilla is my friend, now. I think. I care about her, anyway. Sometimes I feel like I’m gonna be sick because Carmilla shipped her brother overseas and got me back instead. I’m never gonna be able to make that better.”

Dr. Perry fixes her gaze on him, silent for a long moment. “But you haven’t talked to her about any of this.”

“How could I?” He shakes his head, not even considering it. “She… She doesn’t even know how Will died. She doesn’t need apologies or excuses from me. She deserves more than that.”

“Well Kirsch, I think that might be issue number one,” she tells him, pragmatic as ever. “You’re never going to be able to get past this if you can’t face her. This guilt is eating away at you, and you haven’t even given her a chance to forgive you.”

Kirsch lets out a humorless laugh, still refusing to meet her eyes. “What makes you so sure she’ll forgive me?”

“You’re friends, aren’t you?”

He chews on that,  trying to swallow the sick sense of dread that’s starting to settle in his stomach. “Yeah, I guess so. Maybe.”

“Then don’t you think she deserves a chance to prove that?”

He really hates it when Dr. Perry is right.

* * *

He slides into the front seat of Carmilla’s car after his session with Dr. Perry, doing everything he can to avoid Carmilla’s eyes. The dark sunglasses she wears make it easier and he’s grateful for that. Even so, he’s so tense that he feels like he’ll jump out of his skin if she makes any sudden movements.

“How’d it go, Rover?” she asks, twisting around so she can watch as she backs out of the parking space.

He shrugs, not really trusting his own voice just yet.

“Wow, that sounds positively enthralling. You’re really getting your money’s worth, aren’t you.”

“Dr. Perry is a good doctor,” he argues, furrowing his brows. He catches a small hitch in his voice and he tries to cover it by clearing his throat. “She’s really helped me a lot these past few months.”

“And here I thought you were feeling better because of my outstanding companionship.”

He rolls his eyes, trying to fight the small smile that tugs at his lips He doesn’t deserve to be joking around with her like this. He’s not her brother, he never will be. He took that away from her already.

“Hey,” she says, leaning forward to try and catch his eyes while they’re at a stop light. “Is everything alright?”

How is he supposed to answer that? _‘No, everything sucks. I’m sorry, I’m the reason your brother is dead and now it almost seems like I’ve tried to replace him, but I didn’t do that on purpose. Please forgive me.’_

Yeah, that’ll go over well.

“Okay, seriously. What is going on? I know therapy can be rough, but I’ve never seen you like this.”

Kirsch swallows a lump in his throat and he can feel his blood pressure start to rise. This is it, isn’t it? He can’t really lie to her now. He knows she can read him too well and lying to her is almost worse. “Carmilla, I should tell you something.”

“Well, spit it out,” she encourages, her eyes on the road now that they’re on their way back to the house.

He thinks for a moment that maybe he should wait until she’s not driving anymore, but he also thinks that maybe he’ll lose his nerve. And Dr. Perry was right, wasn’t she? She deserves to know. He’s always known that she deserves to know, he just wasn’t expecting to care so much about what she’d think of him afterward.

“It’s about Will,” he starts finally. He squeezes his eyes shut, steeling his nerves for a moment. When she doesn’t answer right away, he takes that as a sign to continue. He knows if he looks at her to see her reaction that he’ll chicken out. “We were… okay, so you know we were in the same platoon. For a long time, we were in that platoon together. We worked so well that our lieutenant usually sent us together when we broke off into pairs for whatever reason.”

He takes a deep breath, hoping that she doesn’t interrupt him. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get through this if she reminds him that she’s actually there. “And you probably guessed that I was there when… I mean, I’m missing a leg because of the shrapnel, it’s probably not that hard to figure out. It’s just… I always meant to tell you this, I just never knew how. Will saved my life that day. He… He threw his own body on top of mine and that’s the only reason I’m still alive.”

Kirsch releases a breath, and he presses his head back against the seat, looking up at the roof of the car. If he keeps his breathing steady maybe he can keep it together.

Carmilla doesn’t say anything for a long time, instead driving as she normally would. Finally she pulls over to the side of the road, stopping where there’s plenty of room for cars to get around, parked next to a few other cars. He flinches when she finally speaks, her voice quieter than he ever thinks he’s heard her. “Why are you telling me this now, Kirsch?”

He clenches his jaw tight as he finally turns his eyes on her. She’s staring straight ahead; the sunglasses make it harder for him to read her. He catches the tension in her jaw, though, and sees how her lips are pressed thin.

“You deserve to know what happened to him,” he answers. He knows that she wants to think that she’s done mourning, but she’s just as stuck as him. Neither of them have been able to fill the holes that Will left in their lives.

They sit like that for a long time, silent, until Carmilla finally reaches to turn the ignition again.

“Wait, Carmilla,” he stops her. He reaches for her wrist to stop her hand, and he can feel his heart thumping in his chest. There’s one last thing she needs to know. If he doesn’t tell her now it’ll stick on him and drag him down for the rest of his life, like black tar. “It… It was my fault. We were searching a building and one of the doors was rigged to trip an IED. I didn’t see it fast enough. That bomb went off because I wasn’t paying close enough attention. I’m… I’m sorry. When I said I’d do anything to bring him back, I meant it.”

Carmilla turns her head to meet his gaze, but he still can’t see her eyes behind the dark lenses of her glasses. She shakes off his hand and turns the ignition, pulling back into the street to continue their drive home. She doesn’t say a single word to him after that.

Kirsch spends the rest of the ride making a mental list of everything he’ll need to pack.

* * *

_Danny,_

_I guess I don’t really think that I’ve done anything extraordinary. I won’t lie to you, I pretty much just wear pajamas most days. But I appreciate that you think it’s something worth being proud of. Maybe I’ll get there someday too._

_Parents are weird. Like after you’re an adult it’s extra weird? Because you’re both adults now and there’s not really that separation anymore. My mom tried to treat me like I was a kid still when I got back, and it was weird. I didn’t like it._

_Yeah, I’d like to say that I’m above tempting you into visiting me with a trip to Disneyland, but I’m totally not. I mean seriously, how fun would that be?? Maybe I can convince Laura and Carmilla to come with us. Like, if everyone’s cool with that. It’s just an idea._

_You could do worse than starting with San Francisco. Plus, you’d have a bunch of locals to show you all the cool shit that tourists never do. We’ll make sure you get all the good stuff in._

_Also, ah. I finally told Carmilla about how Will died. I’m still not sure how she’s taking it. So maybe it’ll just be me showing you around, who knows. At least I’ll have my mom to go back to if shit goes down, right? Like, worst case scenario. I don’t know. I’ll let you know how it goes._

_Sincerely,_

_Kirsch_

* * *

After the two of them got back home, Carmilla had immediately escaped to her study and shut the door behind her. Kirsch really isn’t totally sure what that means, but he think it might possibly mean that he’s moving out. Which sucks. He likes living here.

He goes to his own room and sits on his bed, not really sure what to do with himself. He’s so on edge and he doesn’t really want to play video games or watch TV or anything like he normally would to try and unwind. It feels disrespectful.

He ends up writing another letter to Danny. He’s still not really sure what that is, honestly. She’s like his pen pal, kind of. One that he still has a weird unrequited crush on and he’s never going to be able to do anything about that. It’s probably not healthy to be clinging so tightly to someone who isn’t even physically there, let alone someone who is incapable of returning certain feelings. Yet here he is, writing her back and re-reading her letters like she’s the last hope he has. Like she can save him.

He doesn’t really remember what it’s like to talk to her in person. The idea of her coming to visit him in San Fran is exciting, yeah, but also scary as hell. What if the only reason they’re friends is because of some kind of bubble effect? The hospital didn’t really seem like real life, and he could count the number of people he saw there on a regular basis on one hand. What if it’s different in the real world? Everything else is, so it seems reasonable enough to believe that this would be too.

He’s not even sure why he’s so stressed out about it, though. He still doesn’t even know what to call his and Danny’s relationship. He just knows that she’s important to him.

The sun goes down eventually, but he never bothers to get up to turn his light on. Instead, the only thing illuminating his room is the dim glow of his computer screen. He’s so caught up in his agonizing over Danny’s letters that he nearly drops his laptop when his door swings open unannounced.

_“Shit,_ Carmilla,” he gasps, shaking his head. He watches as she leans against the doorway, raising her eyebrows at him. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Why?” she asks him, tilting her head. “You’re not doing anything to be embarrassed about, are you?”

He doesn’t answer her. She already teases him enough about his correspondence with Danny. “You could have knocked.”

She just shrugs, folding her arms. “Could’ve. Come on, put your peg leg back on.”

“Are we going somewhere?”

“Yeah,” she replies, her eyes locked on his. “I think we could both use a drink.”

He can’t really argue with that. “Yeah, okay. Hang on, I’ll be right out.”

“Good.” She clears her throat, pushing off the doorway.

He watches as she leaves, trying to figure out what this means. Either she’s got some arsenic that she’s ready to slip into his drink tonight, or maybe she’s actually still okay with him. He’s not sure which option is more likely.

* * *

It’s a little harder to get drunk this time, but Kirsch learned a long time ago not to underestimate Carmilla. Instead of beer, she orders a rum and coke for him and what he’s fairly certain is just straight whiskey for herself. Once they’ve both had enough to drink to put some color in their cheeks, it’s like a floodgate releases and he can’t stop apologizing to her.

He grips his half-empty glass of mostly rum and grits his teeth against the sob that he can feel starting to rise in his chest. “I’m sorry, Carmilla,” he tells her, shaking his head. “It’s… It’s crazy, right? I don’t even know why I’m here, it’s my fault that your brother is dead. But here I am, drinking with you and sleeping under your roof, and I just… I wish–”

_“Beefcake,”_ Carmilla cuts him off, training her gaze on him. She has this way of looking at him that makes him feel really small. It used to be terrifying and intimidating, but somehow he doesn’t really feel like that anymore. If anything, now it just serves as a reality check. When necessary, she can put him in his place so easily. “You didn’t set that bomb, did you?”

He squirms a little under her stare, giving her a sheepish shrug. “Well, _no…”_

“And did you overlook a carefully hidden trap on purpose?”

He shakes his head, hanging his head a little. He’s heard this before, from his therapist and from his mom, but this feels different. “No.”

She gives him a wry smile, tilting her head at him. “And I don’t suppose that you _asked_ my idiot brother to throw himself on top of you and save your big, dopey ass, did you?”

“It’s not like there was really time to ask him anything, he just–”

Carmilla raises her eyebrows at him expectantly, letting him answer that himself.

He huffs a sigh, ducking his head. He glances at the contents of his glass and runs his thumb along the rim. It feels weird that she would be so understanding about this. This entire time, he always expected that she would have just as hard of a time forgiving him as he did. He still hasn’t forgiven himself.

“No,” he finally answers quietly.

She ducks to try and catch his eyes again, shaking her head. “Then it wasn’t your fault, Kirsch. And something tells me that you would have done the same thing for him. Am I wrong?”

His eyes snap up to meet hers earnestly, furrowing his brows. _That_ isn’t even a question for him. “Dude, of course I would! If I could go back in time right now, I’d haul his ass out of there. I would have done anything to save him, Carmilla. You gotta believe me.”

He watches as the corners of her mouth turn up in a small smile and gently elbows him. When it comes to displays of affection, it’s like she may as well have thrown herself into his arms. “Then I think we’re even, champ.”

He returns her small smile, his lips pulling to one side. At no point had he ever dreamed he’d wind up here. Will was his best friend, his brother in arms, his comrade. When he died, he never could have anticipated finding something like that again, let alone from Will’s surly sister.

Maybe it’s the rum, but he finally feels like he can relax. He’s most of the way through his glass and he can feel warmth running through his veins. It’s easier to tear down his walls with the aid of alcohol, and he wonders if that had been Carmilla’s intention all along. He wouldn’t put it past her, but he’s also never seen her expose herself to vulnerability—emotionally or otherwise. Not on purpose. He assumes that she probably has with Laura, and with Will, but this is entirely new for him.

He bites his lip, letting his head rest against the back of the padded booth in the corner of their little dive bar. It’s a Wednesday night, so the place is practically empty. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t think Carmilla has ever brought him here on a weekend. Only when it’s empty like this.

“You know, I was really angry for a long time,” he admits, watching as she takes a pull from her glass of whiskey. She’s sprawled out almost as much as he is, her free arm resting along the back of the seat. “Still am, I think. I’ve never been able to shake the feeling that it should have been me. That he should have been the one to come home instead.”

Carmilla’s eyes flash dangerously and she gives him a look of utter offense. “Kirsch, what the fuck.”

Kirsch straightens, lifting his head. “It’s just– I mean, Will had you, and he had all of his friends here, and I… I don’t really have anyone, just my mom. That’s why I left in the first place. It’s not like I was gonna leave that many people to mourn me…”

_“What the fuck.”_ Carmilla snarls. She sits up, snapping to attention and hitting him with one of the most withering, intense glares he’s ever ever had the pleasure of receiving. She reaches for the drink menu on the table and thwaps him in the arm with it, clearly displeased with him.

Kirsch had endured months of basic training and then survived the desert where any day could mean risking his life. None of that was ever as terrifying as an angry Carmilla Karnstein  holding something that could be used as an improvised weapon.

“Kirsch,” she scolds, one hand balled into a fist. “You fucking idiot. Okay, look at me. Are you listening?”

He nods eagerly, feeling too much like an eight-year-old who just broke a priceless antique vase while playing ball inside.

“Fate doesn’t exist,” she tells him, her intensely dark eyes pinning him to his seat. “It’s just something we as human beings have made up to use as a comfort blanket when things don’t make sense. It’s for people who want to believe that the universe has meaning, which it doesn’t. We’re all just stuck here, on this big rock, hurling a million miles a minute through space and things just happen for no fucking reason. It just is.”

She pauses, knocking her glass of whiskey back to finish it off, and sets it back against the table. “That being said,” she starts again, raising an eyebrow as she turns to him. “All I know is that I sent one brother off to war and got another one back.”

Kirsch stares at her with wide eyes, and he feels like his entire world has just turned on its head. All his life he’s been searching for something, his future or his place or whatever. Maybe she was right, maybe there’s no such thing as fate. But if there was, maybe this is exactly where he’s supposed to be. It makes him feel like he’s going to vibrate out of his own skin and he also thinks he might possibly throw up. He probably shouldn’t do that.

“Fuck,” she laughs, shaking her head. “I hate how sentimental alcohol makes me, this is why I try not to drink this much.”

A smile finally pulls at his lips and he releases his breath, laughing deliriously. His chest aches because of how full he feels, like his heart is going to burst right out of his chest, and he reaches up to wipe at his eyes. He didn’t realize how much moisture had started to well there.

“Oh my god, please don’t cry.”

“I’m _not,”_ he lies, shaking his head, using his shirt to blot away his tears.

“Christ, you’re as bad as Laura.”

_“Fuck you,”_ he mumbles, reaching for her. She freezes up in his arms, like she’s not sure how to react as Kirsch pulls her into his chest for a tight embrace. “Um. Thanks, CK.”

She sighs and relaxes into him after a moment, pulling her arms around his waist to return his affection. She turns her head so her cheek is pressed against his chest. “Y- yeah, no problem.”

He closes his eyes, holding her like that for a few more seconds. He’s not sure if she’ll ever let him actually hug her again, so he may as well make the most of it. She’s not exactly the affectionate type, unless it’s Laura. It’s strange, but Kirsch almost swears that he can feel her shoulders shaking after a moment.

“... Carmilla?”

And then she sniffles. It’s quiet, sure, but Kirsch doesn’t miss it. When she doesn’t answer, he lifts his head to try and look down at her.

“Are _you_ crying?” he asks, incredulous.

_“No,”_ she protests, her voice thick. She pauses a moment, perhaps realizing that she’s been caught. “Shut up.”

He grins, patting her back. “It’s okay, Carmilla, I love you too. And you still terrify me, so don’t worry.”

“If you ever try to bring this up again, I’m going to use your intestines as a jump rope.”

* * *

**  
**They’re both laughing and tripping over themselves a little when Laura comes to pick them up. She has to try and herd them back to the car and he’s still not entirely sure how she managed it. It’s impressive, to say the least. **  
**

They stumble back into the house and Laura’s immediate concern is trying to get them to go to sleep, but Kirsch still feels too keyed up to even contemplate it.

“Guys,” he tells them, using the wall to help keep himself upright. He’s been pretty good on his feet lately, but he’s still glad to have extra support. “I fucking love you guys. You know that? You’re like… Fuck, you’re like my family now. I don’t fucking care, I love you guys.”

“Aw, Kirsch,” Laura replies, helping Carmilla out of her jacket. “That’s really cute. You’re drunk, but that’s still really adorable.”

“Yeah, he’s really fucking adorable, isn’t he?” Carmilla laughs, her arms around Laura’s waist. “He’s like shaggy, slobbery dog. You always did want to get a puppy.”

“Yeah, this isn’t exactly what I meant,” Laura laughs, shaking her head. She scrunches her nose at him. “He is getting pretty shaggy, isn’t he? When was the last time you had a haircut?”

“Uh…”

“You haven’t had one since you got back, have you?” Carmilla asks, laughing. “Shit, I can give you a haircut. We still have those clippers, don’t we?”

“Carmilla, I’m not sure if now is the best time…” Laura warns, but Carmilla is already pulling away and heading toward the hall bathroom.

“Bullshit, now is a perfect time,” Carmilla argues. She’s already pulled the cupboard open and has started rifling through it in pursuit of their electric clippers. “Aha!”

Kirsch raises his eyebrows as she pokes her head out of the bathroom again, holding out the clippers.

“C’mere, before I start calling you Cousin It,” she nags, smirking at him. He rolls his eyes and follows after her into the bathroom, Laura not far behind.

“I’m just going to say now that this was not my idea,” she tells them, but she’s laughing. “If you wake up tomorrow and you regret letting her come near you with sharp objects, don’t come crying to me.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Carmilla coos at her, stepping back so to give Krisch room. “C’mon, kneel in front of the mirror, I can’t reach you up there.”

He does as he’s told with a little effort. It’s another one of those times that he’s grateful that he still has both of his knees. He’s not sure how well kneeling would work, otherwise.

He looks up at her through the mirror once he’s ready, weirdly excited. He’s not really sure why, but this feels like a good idea. He’s been looking in the mirror and seeing the same thing every morning, the same tired face and broken spirit with a shaggy fringe constantly in his eyes. Maybe something as simple as changing his hair can be enough to jump start his drive again.

Carmilla flips on the clippers and holds the buzzing clippers a few inches from his scalp. She raises her eyebrows at him in question.

He takes a deep breath and nods.

The first stripe that Carmilla shaves off goes a lot easier than he expected. He’s not sure why he felt like it would be a bigger deal, but within a split second, an entire chunk of his hair is gone. Se runs the clippers across the side of his head again and another chunk is gone, just like that. She goes to set the clippers against the top of his head, but Kirsch raises his hand, stopping her suddenly. “Wait!”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting second thoughts now, buddy,” Carmilla complains, pulling the clippers back again before she can make the cut. “It’s a little too late to take it back.”

“Just… Don’t buzz it,” he begs, shaking his head. He hadn’t thought of it at first, but buzzing his hair would make him look like he did in the army. He doesn’t want that either.

“Well, what do you want, then?” she asks, tilting her head at him, She runs her fingers through the top of his mane, combing his hair back from his eyes. The simple adjustment of combing his hair back makes him look completely different. “We could do just the sides.”

“Like a mohawk?”

“Yeah, kinda,” she nods. She grins wider. “It’ll make you look like a badass. What do you think, cupcake?”

Laura bites her lip, smiling. “To quote a seminal classic of our generation: your hair looks sexy pushed back.”

Kirsch’s grin widens and he feels something spark in him. He wants to look like a badass. “Hell yeah.”

“Mohawk it is, then,” Carmilla grins, putting the clippers back to work. She makes short work of the rest of his hair, taking out the sides of his hair and cutting close so that all that’s left is a wide stripe of hair down the middle of his head.

Kirsch takes a deep breath, his eyes alight as he considers this new version of himself. Carmilla continues to comb his hair back to try and coax it into staying put and Laura reaches out to rub the side of his head with a giggle.

“I’m not gonna lie, this is a pretty good look on you,” she laughs,

“Yeah, take it from a couple of lesbians,” Carmilla smirks, satisfied with her work.

Kirsch laughs, feeling lighter and more excited than he has in ages. He can’t remember the last time he felt like this. “Hey, if anyone knows the kinds of things that girls like, it’s probably you guys, right?”

“Yep,” Carmilla agrees, sharing a nod of approval with Laura. She reaches out to brush the remaining loose hair off his shoulders. “Stick with us, kid. We’ve got your back.”

He looks up at the two of them through the mirror, his smile growing a little softer. He’s still a little drunk but he knows that what he said earlier is true. He loves them.

“Thank you. Both of you.”

Laura bends (only an inch or two, even when he’s kneeling he’s almost as tall as her) and presses a fond kiss to the top of his head. When she straightens she shares a look with her girlfriend, smiling widely. “Any time, Kirsch. Now will you _please_ get some rest? Both of you?”

Kirsch laughs and tries to pull himself up. He almost slips and takes them both with him, but they manage to help him up.

Honestly, he doesn’t know how he got so lucky.

* * *

 

_Kirsch,_

_Okay, excuse my language, but what the fuck are you talking about? “Haven’t done anything extraordinary” that is bullshit and you know it. Kirsch, you’ve faced things that most Americans don’t even fully understand and you’re still standing. Yeah, you had a little help, but there’s no shame in getting help. You should be proud of yourself for getting out of bed in the morning. I wouldn’t be surprised if that alone can get hard sometimes. If I have to fly to San Francisco tonight to knock some sense into you, I’ll do it. Don’t tempt me._

_Parents are very weird, that’s like the understatement of the century. And maybe it’s just me, but I feel like my parents are even weirder than most. It’s like I don’t even know them, not really. They have no idea who I am, nor do they want to. It’s probably better that way, though. They wouldn’t want to know everything about me._

_Yeah, I see how it is. But it’s not like Disneyland is the only thing in California worth seeing, you know. I hear the beaches are pretty stellar, too._

_First of all, I hope you’re okay. I know that it was a big deal to you to tell Carmilla what happened, so that’s another thing you can be proud of. Second of all, if Carmilla doesn’t realize how wonderful you are I really will fly to San Francisco and knock some sense into someone. What is she, like 5’4"? I can take her. Seriously though, you deserve to have people in your life who know what you’re worth._

_Let me know how it goes. I’ve started counting down to when I’ll be back home. So that’s a thing. I’ll miss Germany, but I think I’m really looking forward to this._

_Sincerely,_

_Danny_

* * *

Dr. Perry was right. He’d known that she was right, as she often is, but it’s also nice to see her light up when he reports back to her. After she had gotten over his haircut, that is. He has to admit that he can stand a little straighter than before, and it’s kind of nice to catch people staring at something other than his leg.

And telling Carmilla the truth had gone better than he could have ever anticipated. They’d talked a lot, that night, with the assistance of alcohol to tear down both their walls. He admitted that he felt a little guilty that he was getting so close to her after everything, but she in turn revealed that having Kirsch as a connection to Will has helped her. She also told him that she’d been putting off going back to college for graduate school, but that she thought she might finally be ready to head down that path.

It takes him back to one of the first things that Laura asked him, almost four months ago. What are his goals? What does he want out of his life? Back then, it had felt like just getting back on his feet was an impossible task. But in the months that he’d known Laura and Carmilla, he’s moved mountains. He’s now walking without assistance most of the time, and he’s still getting better every day. He has a place with them, and he contributes to rent and keeping the place clean. He feels more at home with them than he ever thought was possible.

But, what does a person do after they climb a mountain? They find a bigger mountain.

There was a time in Kirsch’s life when college had been a very real dream. He was going to get a football scholarship and play college ball and he was going to be a hometown hero, a big man on campus. Sixteen-year-old Kirsch had some big aspirations. Twenty-three-year-old Kirsch has some smaller goals. But maybe college can still be one of them.

He starts by looking at schools in the area, getting some information on the programs they offer and trying to get an idea of what he needs to do. He finds out pretty quickly that he’s in way over his head. It seems a little counter-productive to him to make everything about starting college so confusing, but apparently someone out there disagrees with him. Lucky for him, though, he knows someone who knows a lot more about college than he does.

Kirsch approaches the open door to Carmilla’s study one day, knocking on the frame to announce his presence.

“What’s up, Kirsch?” she asks him, twisting around to look up from her computer, glasses poised on her nose. “If you’re here to tell me you’re bored, you’re going to have to deal with it for a little while. I’ve still got some work to get done.”

“Oh,” he says, stopping at the doorway. “I had something to ask you, but I can wait if you’re busy.”

She raises her eyebrows at him, reconsidering. “No, it’s okay. I can take a break. Sit down.”

He flashes her a small smile and moves further into the room, sitting in one of the chairs near the desk. His good knee bounces excitedly and he chews on his bottom lip.

“Well, don’t spill it all at once or anything,” she tells him dryly. “You’re not gonna pee your pants, are you?”

“Sorry,” he grimaces, stopping his knee. “Um. You know a lot about college, right? Like how to get started and stuff.”

“I know enough,” she replies, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Okay, cool. That’s really cool,” he nods eagerly, reaching up to rub his chin. “See, I… I tried looking into it myself a little bit and I got kinda lost.”

“And you’d like my help.”

“I mean. If that’s okay? I’m not even sure where to get started,” he explains sheepishly. He gives her a lopsided smile, shrugging. “I was a teenager the last time I thought about this stuff, and I was just worried about which schools had the best football teams. I don’t know anything about choosing a school.”

She smiles at him, tilting her head in consideration. “I might be able to help you with that.”

“Yeah?” he asks, lighting up. He sits straight up, on the edge of his seat. “Like you can show me how the whole application stuff works, and like… How to choose a major. I’m gonna have to choose a major, right?”

“Eventually,” she confirms, laughing softly. “You don’t necessarily have to worry about it right away, but it’s good to think about. Laura can probably help with that, too.”

“Yeah!” Kirsch agrees, grinning. “Dude, thank you. Have I told you guys lately how awesome you are?”

“Yeah, you might’ve mentioned it a few times,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, it’s not a big deal.”

But it is a big deal. It’s a very big deal to him. He never had siblings growing up, but somehow he thinks that maybe this was always supposed to be his family. Maybe.

* * *

_Danny,_

_If I tell you that things went awful and that you need to kick somebody’s ass, will you get on a plane tonight?_

_Okay, don’t do that. That would be completely selfish of me and it’s not necessary. Actually, Carmilla was… Really cool about it. Like really, we talked for a long time. I think we’re in a really good place. It’s weird, but I think she might be one of my best friends. That’s weird, right? She keeps telling me I shouldn’t feel guilty._

_Maybe it’s my turn to be protective, though? Okay, so I don’t know your parents, and they’re probably lovely people, but they don’t know what the hell they’re missing out on if they don’t want to know you. We’ve known each other, what… almost nine months? If you count all these letters. But it didn’t really take that long to figure out how amazing you are. You’re funny and genuine and smart as hell. Who the fuck wouldn’t want to know you? That honestly doesn’t make any sense to me. You’re amazing, Danny._

_Well, California’s a big state. I’m pretty sure we can find things that you like here. If not, I’ll take back all those times that I kicked your ass at cards._

_I’m excited for you, too. I mean, the army kind of chewed me up and spit me out, but I think I’m finally figuring this shit out and it IS exciting. I hope you get that, too. Fuck, I hope you get a job when you want to and I hope you get an apartment and everything that you want out of life. If we’re gonna talk about what we deserve, I’m pretty sure that’s what you deserve. You could probably do anything you want. It’s kinda scary, right? But cool._

_How long have you got until you get home? I’ll countdown with you._

_Sincerely,_

_Kirsch_

_P.S. Oh, by the way! I cut my hair. Which probably isn’t normally that exciting, but I think it looks pretty awesome. I attached a picture. What do you think? Is it weird?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and just in case anyone is wondering, this is Kirsch's snazzy new haircut: [BOOM](http://36.media.tumblr.com/ee3798874369bb0be8fa729780be5070/tumblr_norfdrFA2K1uvifw7o1_500.jpg)


	6. be my co-pilot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I just want to really thank everyone who has read and given me such positive feedback on this fic. I know Zeta Society is kind of a small corner of this fandom, but appreciate you all and I really hope you like this. This is actually the last chapter, but there'll be an epilogue after! I may also occasionally come back to this au for a few one-shots, so who knows. As always, many thanks to my beta chiltongirlsdoitbetter, who reads through and yells at me and makes my writing a billion times better.
> 
> The title of this chapter comes from "Co-Pilot" by Letters To Cleo

**[03:07 PM] Unknown Number:** hey I just got your last email this is kirsch

 **[03:07 PM] Unknown Number:** how was your flight?? are you settling in alright? I can’t believe you’re in the states finally

 **[03:10 PM] danny:** Hey! I know, it’s weird right? The flight was okay, but long. I slept most of the way though, so thank god for that.

 **[03:11 PM] danny:** How are you?

 **[03:12 PM] Kirsch:** Im ok, just on the way to phys therapy. Carmilla says hey

 **[03:12 PM] Kirsch:** actually she says “is that your made-up girlfriend” but she’s being dumb

 **[03:12 PM] Kirsch:** I mean you’re not my girlfriend so

 **[03:13 PM] Kirsch:** how is DC?

 **[03:15 PM] danny:** Tell Carmilla she’s a jerk. But D.C. is great, it’s really beautiful here. Living with my parents is weird, though. I don’t think either of them know how to be retired.

 **[03:16 PM] Kirsch:** omg right parents are so weird. I love my mom but she doesn’t drive me as nuts when I just see her on weekends.

 **[03:18 PM] danny:** Yeah I think even every weekend might be excessive with my parents. But that’s all the more reason to travel, right?

 **[03:19 PM] Kirsch:** yeah!! you’re still planning on that yeah? when do you think you’ll be able to do that?

 **[03:19 PM] danny:** Still planning on it, yes! Hopefully I can start making solid plans in a few weeks. Just still need to get settled and all.

 **[03:21 PM] Kirsch:** killer. well disneyland is still on the table just saying.

 **[03:21 PM] Kirsch:** I gotta head into phys therapy now but we can talk more later right?

 **[03:22 PM] danny:** Yeah, absolutely. I’ll talk to you later, Kirsch.

* * *

Even though Danny is still on the other side of the country, the knowledge that she’s back stateside and that he can actually text her now is almost overwhelming. Kirsch doesn’t know what he’s getting all worked up over, but it’s exciting. He’s still not sure what exactly she’s planning or if she really does want to come to San Francisco, but the possibility seems just a little more real.

(Plus, they’ve already gotten in the habit of texting every night. He’s pretty sure she’s staying up late for him because it’s usually almost ten at night in California by the time they stop and she’s three hours ahead of him.)

He pulls on a tank top as he goes to go see what’s left of breakfast, nodding in greeting at Carmilla who’s perched at the counter as she sips on a cup of coffee. He pulls open the fridge to rummage for a bagel, raising his eyebrows at her when he sees her wrinkling her nose at him.

“Uh. Good morning?” he says, confused by her mild disgust. He supposes he shouldn’t be that surprised, she’s usually at least a little bit disgusted by something pretty much at all times.

“When are you going to get that god-awful tattoo fixed?” she asks him without preamble, her eyes narrowed at him.

“... What?”

“Your tattoo, the lion on your chest. The skull on your bicep is fine, but that lion needs some serious work,” she explains, gesturing towards his shoulder. “Where did you even get that thing? Don’t tell me you just picked it out of a book.”

Kirsch gives her a sidelong glance, not answering, instead deciding to concentrate on getting his bagel into the toaster.

“Jeez, frat boy, no wonder it’s so tacky.”

“Hey, I was eighteen, okay,” he counters, frowning down at his chest. The lion’s head is entirely in solid black on his right pectoral, and he’d gotten it right after his football injury. At the time, it had been a sort of vow of inner strength that he’d made to himself. That, and his high school mascot had been the Lions, but he usually leaves that part out. It had mostly been about the strength thing, anyway. “It was cool and it’s not like I had a ton of money to drop on a tattoo.”

Carmilla makes a face. “Well, it’s not like you’re broke now. You could go get it fixed up. Don’t you want it to look nice for when your girlfriend comes to visit?”

“Danny isn’t my girlfriend,” Kirsch corrects her immediately, ignoring the small pang in his chest. He really should try to get over whatever the hell that is. “Besides, I’m not even totally sure if or when she’s coming. We’ve only been talking about it, really.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums, raising her eyebrows at him over her coffee cup. “Well, I’m just saying. It could stand to have an overhaul. I know a few good shops, you know. I could probably help you find a good artist for a cover-up.”

“... Do you think it would really make a difference?”

Carmilla shrugs. “I think that your tattoo is an affront to society regardless and that you should get that shit fixed. I can call one of my friends today, if you want.”

Kirsch looks up at her, considering it. He has a little extra cash in his savings, and he does have to admit that the old tattoo is looking pretty rough. It might be worth it. “Yeah, okay. Maybe we can make an appointment to go over ideas. It wouldn’t hurt, right?”

“Thank god,” she sighs, smirking at him. “I swear, I was going to take a tattoo gun to you myself if I had to stare at it any longer, especially when you traipse around the house in those unseemly tanks tops all the time.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry my tank tops _offend_ you.”

“They do. You know, if I wanted a man to walk around my house half naked, I would never have become a lesbian.”

Kirsch shrugs, laughing. “Hey, I don’t have to worry about you perving on me, right?”

Her lips curl in disgust again. “Definitely not.”

His bagel pops once it’s done toasting, and he reaches for it, handling it gingerly so it doesn’t burn his fingers. “It’s summer, Mills. Sun’s out, guns out.”

Carmilla rolls her eyes so hard that he’s a little worried she might pull a muscle. “Okay, 21 Jump Street.”

* * *

**[07:31 PM] danny:** So… How would the beginning of August work for you, if I were to take a vacation to San Francisco?

 **[07:32 PM] Kirsch:** seriously??? that would be awesome! I can talk to laura and carmilla about it, but I think it would work.

 **[07:32 PM] Kirsch:** dude we could do all kinds of shit if you come here. we’ll do a whole tour.

 **[07:34 PM] danny:** Haha deal. I’m kind of looking at plane tickets, and the flights aren’t bad if I get one that connects halfway.

 **[07:35 PM] Kirsch:** that’s awesome! I’ll go ask laura and carmilla right now, but I think that will work. beginning of august, right?

 **[07:35 PM] danny:** Yeah, that’s what I’m looking at right now.

 **[07:36 PM] Kirsch:** cool hang on

 **[07:44 PM] Kirsch:** they say yes. we want to do disney too right?? laura really wants to do disney. we probably have room for you if you need a place to stay too.

 **[07:46 PM] danny:** Hotels actually aren’t too bad, so I’ll probably do that and get a rental car. I appreciate the offer, though. So early August it is?

 **[07:47 PM] Kirsch:** dude no problem whatever you need. and yeah! we can start planning for it.

 **[07:49 PM] danny:** Cool, I’ll book this flight before the price goes up, then.

 **[07:50 PM] Kirsch:** fck yeah!! dude it’s been so long I can’t way to see you, D.

* * *

It’s happening. Kirsch can’t believe it’s finally happening. After weeks of planning and pounding out details, Danny is finally in San Francisco, and he can hardly sit still for more than a minute because he’s too keyed up to be of any use to anyone.

She’s _here_. Literally only a few miles away. She called him a little earlier to let him know her flight had landed and that she was on her way to check into her hotel, so now it’ll only be a little longer before they can go pick her up to get lunch.

He might actually throw up.

“You alright there, champ?” Carmilla asks him, raising an eyebrow at him as she grabs her keys off the hook on the wall. “You look a little green.”

“I’m fine,” he insists, nodding. “It’s not a big deal, right? It’s just Danny.”

“Of course, it’ll be great,” Laura agrees, giving his shoulder an encouraging nudge.

“Ow, hey, watch the tattoo,” Kirsch complains, frowning at the still-tender tattoo under his shirt. Carmilla had taken him to go get the last touch up done on his cover-up a few days ago, so it’s still in the process of healing. He has to admit, the new lion's head is way better.

Laura cringes, touching the edge of his shoulder gingerly. “Sorry, I forgot. Does it still hurt?”

“Only when it’s poked,” he teases, laughing. “Come on, we should get going, right? So we don’t like, leave her waiting, or whatever.”

Carmilla rolls her eyes affectionately and pulls the door open for them (mostly for Laura). “Yeah, don’t piss yourself. We’ll be there on time to pick up your mail-order bride.”

“Oh my god, don’t call her that,” Kirsch glares. “She’s just Danny, okay? She’s not my anything.”

“Not to mention how offensive that kind of thing is, Carmilla,” Laura scolds with a small huff, sliding into the front passenger seat of Carmilla’s car. “Really, you should know better.”

“Yeah!” Kirsch agrees, getting into the back.

“Oh please, not you too,” Carmilla laughs, turning the ignition. “Don’t tell me you’ve been listening to Laura’s feminist rants.”

“She has some interesting points, okay?” he replies, defending Laura. They’d been playing video games together (or more accurately, Kirsch was playing Grand Theft Auto again while Laura watched) and she’d launched into a whole crash course on feminism and representation in media when she’d seen how some of the women were portrayed. It’s safe to say he’d learned a lot, that night. “Besides, aren’t you a feminist?”

“I prefer to leave the social justice crusades to those who care to involve themselves,” she explains as she starts to back out of the drive way. “I’m happy to cheer Laura on from the sidelines.”

“But you know that’s not really helping,” Laura grumbles. They’ve clearly had this argument before.

 _“Cupcake,”_ Carmilla sighs, sending her an irritated glance.

And that’s all it takes for Laura to start into one of her diatribes on the importance of being active and vocal in the face of gender discrimination in society. She’s still going when they pull up to Danny’s hotel, and Kirsch is pretty sure that Carmilla regrets bringing anything up in the first place.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells them both as he escapes out of the back seat so he can go meet Danny inside.

“Please hurry,” Carmilla pleads.

Kirsch grins and throws her a mock-salute. “Sir, yes sir.”

He chuckles at her displeased glare as he closes the car door, steadying himself quickly before he heads inside. He knows he shouldn’t really be nervous. It’s just Danny, after all. No big deal, right? But he’s still terrified that he’s going to fuck something up, or that things will be different. It’s been a long time since they’ve seen each other.

As soon as he’s inside, he starts looking around, scouting for her signature mane of red hair. It only takes a moment, and when his eyes land on her, it’s like everything stops around him. He’s not even sure if he remembers how to breath. It feels like he’s in a goddamned rom-com.

She turns and catches his eyes, a smile lighting up her face. He’s not sure if maybe it’s been too long since he’s seen her, but he probably never could have prepared himself for what it’s like to see her again. Was she always this pretty? Was she always this… tall?

He blinks at her, straightening to his full height as she approaches. He knew she was tall, but he’d been sitting or lying down for almost the entirety of his hospital stay in Germany. He doesn’t think he realized that she’s just about the same height as him.

“Hey,” he breathes, clearing his throat after. What is he supposed to do? Hug her? Offer a handshake? He’s not sure what the proper manners are, here.

“Hey,” she returns, smiling. “It’s… God, it’s so good to see you. And you’re walking and everything, look at you!”

He laughs, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. “Yeah, well. I’ve been practicing. I just got re-fitted, too, so this leg feels better,” he explains, reaching up to nervously scratch the back of his neck. “But, uh. That’s all pretty boring, I’m sure you don’t really care.”

“No, it’s totally fine,” she insists, giving him a soft laugh. “I’m a nurse, remember? It’s actually pretty fascinating. You’ll have to show me how it all works, later. “

“Yeah, totally!” he agrees, grinning. “Um. Laura and Carmilla are out in the car, you ready to go grab lunch? Laura’s got this place picked out to take you, and she always picks great places. Then we can head to the Golden Gate Bridge first thing, if you want.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” she agrees, nodding. Her smile is infectious and he feels a little light-headed from just being around her again. Maybe he should have brought his cane.

“Great,” he nods, turning to lead her outside again. “They’re dying to meet you. I’m pretty sure I haven’t stopped talking about you for like a month straight now. It was probably pretty obnoxious.”

“Dying to meet me, huh?” she asks, laughing as she follows him. “Even Carmilla? I thought she was convinced that I’m not real.”

“Yeah, well, that’s partially why she wants to meet you,” he jokes with a small chuckle. “But mostly she’s just being a jerk. I mean, I love her, but she’s kinda just like that. You’ll see.”

They approach the car and Kirsch gets the door for her, letting her slide in first.

“Hey, so. Danny, this is Carmilla and Laura,” he introduces once they’re all inside. He sits up straight, on the edge of his seat and gesturing between the three of them. “Carmilla and Laura, this is Danny.”

Laura turns around in the front passenger seat and reaches to offer Danny her hand. “It’s really great to meet you, Danny! Kirsch has told us so much, it’s nice to finally put a face to the stories.”

“Yeah, he didn’t mention you were so tall,” Carmilla chimes in, smirking at the two of them through the rear-view mirror, sunglasses perched on her nose.

“Well, he’s not exactly pint-sized himself,” Danny points out.

“That and I was sitting or laying on my back pretty much most of the time we were in Germany,” Kirsch agrees, fiddling with the long fringe of hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re the same height as me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah just about, I think,” she nods. She looks up at him, a small smile turning the corners of her mouth. She reaches up to comb a lock of his hair back from his forehead. “Though I think your hair might give you another inch or two, now. It’s a good look on you.”

Kirsch is pretty sure his heart has stopped beating. He’s about to say something, hopefully something witty and charming, but instead he’s cut off by the sound of Carmilla retching in the driver’s seat.

 _“Carmilla,”_ Laura hisses in a whisper, gently smacking her stomach.

“Oh, sorry,” Carmilla replies, smiling sweetly back at the two of them. “I thought for a second there that I might be sick. I think it’s passed now.”

Danny stares at Carmilla, taken aback by her blunt attitude. She seems to recover pretty quickly, however, pursing her lips thoughtfully and jutting out her chin in defiance. “Yeah, you know maybe you should get that looked at. We wouldn’t want you to get sick while you’re driving.”

Carmilla appraises Danny through her sunglasses, and for a moment there’s a spark of electricity between them. It’s like the calm before a storm and Kirsch and Laura are mere bystanders caught in the middle. “Is that your professional opinion, Nurse Ratched?”

“You know, I’m sure you just need something to eat,” Laura cuts in, reaching for Carmilla’s hand. “Right, Carm? Lunch sounds like a great idea. Do you like sourdough, Danny? San Francisco has _amazing_ sourdough, and we were thinking we could take you to one of our favorite sandwich shops, if that sounds good to you?”

Danny pulls her eyes from Carmilla and her features soften again, giving Laura a genuine smile. “Yeah, that sounds really great. And then Kirsch said the Golden Gate Bridge afterward?”

(Kirsch lets out a breath in relief. He’s going to have to thank Laura later for that one.)

“That’s the plan! But really, this is your time,” Laura nods. “We can go wherever you want to go.”

Kirsch watches as she gives Carmilla’s hand a squeeze. He’s glad that Laura can be here to help him as a buffer. But really, who could have predicted that they’d be _quite_ so immediately antagonistic to each other? Not him.

(He’s going to have to see if Laura has any advice on how to reign Carmilla in, maybe.)

* * *

After sandwiches for lunch, they head to the Golden Gate Bridge. There’s a park there, as well as a few exhibits and overlooks that allow visitors to get a view of the bridge from the shore. They spend a few hours there, letting Laura be their personal tour guide and getting dozens of pictures for Danny to take back with her to D.C.

“The beach looks so great from here,” Danny sighs as they look down from one of the overlooks. She grins as she elbows him, pointing down at the beach. “Are we gonna go to the beach, this trip?”

“I mean, we can. If you want,” Kirsch grins sheepishly, shrugging. “Sand kinda sucks to walk on, but we can go. I mean, it’d be dumb not to go while you’re here, right?”

“Oh, I didn’t even think about that,” she replies, frowning a little. “I mean, it’s not that big of a deal, I’ve seen beaches before.”

“No, it’s cool,” he insists, shaking his head. “You might just have to help me and I’ll try not to take you down with me if I fall.”

Danny laughs, her eyes lighting up a little as she does. “Deal. Hey, what if we come back at night? That way there won’t be anyone around? Just us? You wouldn’t need to be embarrassed if you trip, or whatever”

There’s a fluttery feeling that he gets in his stomach at that, and he has to remind himself that she’s not interested in him that way. They’re friends. He can’t forget that. The last thing he wants to do is push her away. “Yeah. Okay, we can come back at night. I know a beach that’s really nice at night.”

“Great, then it’s settled. Maybe we can go tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, smiling.

“Hey, you guys ready to head back?” Laura interrupts them, all smiles. “Carmilla and I wanted to take you to a nice restaurant tonight.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna head back to the house to get ready,” Carmilla adds. “We can take you back to your hotel, Xena. Just make sure you leave some space in the back seat for Jesus.”

 

* * *

It’s late by the time they part ways. Carmilla and Laura leave the restaurant a little earlier than the two of them, and Kirsch ends up riding with Danny around the city for almost two hours before she finally drops him off at home. Even after that, he gets a message from her once she’s back at her hotel and they spend another 40 minutes texting back and forth, occasionally pointing out how tired they’re both going to be in the morning. Kirsch is pretty sure it’s worth it, though.

They next day, they do Alcatraz. Laura has to go back to work and Carmilla insists that she does as well, so it’s just Kirsch and Danny for most of the day. He’s cool with that, honestly, and he supposes that it makes sense that Laura and Carmilla will need to work more earlier in the week if they’re all going to go to Disneyland that weekend.

(Besides, it’s kind of nice with just him and Danny.)

Kirsch did the whole tour thing of Alcatraz once before, when he was in middle school, but he didn’t really have the attention span then to appreciate it fully. He just remembers goofing off with his friends, so it’s a lot more interesting this time. He learns more.

The sun hangs low in the sky by the time they finish, and they catch dinner once they’re off the island. Kirsch directs Danny to one of his favorite beaches, as promised, and he’s happy to see that it’s mostly empty now. He brought his cane with him, but he’s really not sure how much good it’s gonna do him in the sand. He just hopes he doesn’t wind up on his ass. It’d be worth it anyway to let her see the ocean, though.

“Just hold onto me, okay?” Danny tells him as they start to walk out onto the beach. She links her arm in his and he lets her keep him steady.

“Okay,” he agrees, giving her a lopsided smile. It’s a little colder on the beach at night, even in the summer, so they’re both wrapped up in jackets. Even so, he doesn’t think it’s the sea breeze that’s giving him goosebumps.

_She’s just a friend._

He clears his throat, gripping onto her arm a little tighter when he wobbles a little. “I’m gonna go ahead and apologize now, just in case we both end up on the ground.”

She laughs, holding onto his arm with both hands. “Don’t even worry about it. Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Well everyone’s gotta see the beach, right?” he reasons, his smile brightening as he squints at the sun setting on the horizon. It’s almost completely below the water line. “We made it just in time, too.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty perfect.”

“I’ve seen better,” he jokes, grinning at her. He’s glad it pays off when she laughs.

“Did you go to the beach a lot when you were growing up, then?”

He nods, looking out on the water again. “Yeah, me and my friends would all go on weekends, sometimes. I used to surf, actually. I mean, not _well_. But I guess it doesn’t matter, anymore.”

“Why not?” she asks, furrowing her brows at him. “Just because of your leg?”

“Well…” he blinks at her, sheepish. _“Yeah._ I’m getting better at walking, but surfing and stuff like that still feels like it’s a ways off.”

“But not impossible,” she points out. “I mean look at you now, you’re doing just fine.”

“For _now,”_ he agrees, shaking his head at her, his smiled crooked.

“Yeah, but six months ago could you picture yourself here?”

Kirsch takes a deep breath, his cheeks puffing out as he lets it release. That feels like a loaded question. “No, I honestly can’t say that I could have.”

She smiles at him, giving his arm an encouraging squeeze. “So anything’s possible, right?”

“Yeah, you have a point.” He returns her smile, begrudgingly conceding. He still thinks it’ll be a while before he’ll get anywhere near a surfboard, especially when he wasn’t really great at it to begin with. She’s still not wrong, though, and maybe that means he can start working towards other things.

Like working off the ten pounds he’s gained since landing back in the states.

* * *

The next night they’re back at Carmilla and Laura’s place for dinner. Kirsch had shown Danny around the city during the day, and it was just the two of them again. Even though Danny has only been in San Francisco for three days, they fall into such an easy back and forth that it feels like he’s known her for years. They tease each other, sure, but that’s part of the fun. It feels distinctly different than how Carmilla teases him, but maybe that’s just him imagining things.

After dinner, Kirsch breaks out a pack of cards for old time's sake and somehow manages to wrangle both Carmilla and Laura into playing spades with them. It’s not actually that hard to convince Laura, despite the fact that she has work in the morning, but it takes all three of them to finally get Carmilla to agree. (Well, Laura does most of the convincing, as always.)

Several games later, Kirsch isn’t even sure who had won. Not that it really matters, but Danny insists that their team beat Carmilla and Laura. She was probably the only one still keeping score when Laura finally decided to call it a night, groaning about how tired she’ll be in the morning as she and Carmilla head to bed.

Kirsch thinks about going to bed, as well, but instead he and Danny wind up on the couch with the last of the wine to share between them. It’s not enough for either of them to really be drunk, but he’s sure he’s got some color in his cheeks and he thinks he can see a pink tinge to the tips of her ears.

He grins over at her from his end of the couch, passing the mostly-empty bottle back to her. Laura and Carmilla’s couch is tiny, but he figures it makes sense considering they’re both such small people. On the other hand, he and Danny take up the whole thing.

“So, what do you think?” he asks her, his head turned toward her and resting on the back edge of the couch.

“What do I think about what?” she asks, returning his smile. She’s facing him, and she has her legs curled up under her, her head propped up by one arm resting on the back of the couch.

He shrugs. “San Francisco. Your trip. Are you… having fun, here?”

She takes a drink of wine before answering, her lips curling into a smirk around the bottle. “Do I not look like I’m having fun?”

“No, you do,” he assures her, shaking his head a little. “I guess I just wanted to make sure. I mean, you came all this way. It’d kinda suck if weren’t actually enjoying your stay.”

“Well,” she starts, holding the bottle of wine out to pass back to him. “I can assure you that I’m having a very good time. It’s nice to see the city with a local, you know? That way I know I’m doing it right. You’ve been a good tour guide.”

He grins lazily at her, taking the bottle of wine. “Well, you’ve been a good… tourist.”

“Thanks, I try,” she laughs. She reaches up to run a hand through her red mane and Kirsch kicks himself for staring a little too long.

“Really, though,” he insists, fiddling with the label on the bottle in his hands. “I hope you’re having a good time. And I’m really glad you’re here. I was kinda nervous it wouldn’t be quite the same, y’know?”

“Oh god, me too,” she agrees with a small laugh. “It feels like it’s been so long since Germany, and things were so… I mean, you’d just had your surgery. I know things were rough there for a while, but it seems like you’ve been keeping your head above water. That’s a big deal, Kirsch.”

He shrugs, looking down at his lap. It’s still hard for him to talk about it, even with Dr. Perry. There are days that he doesn’t want to do anything but lay in bed and sometimes that’s all he can do because the phantom pain in his leg is too overwhelming to do anything else. Other times he can’t stand to be alone in his room for more than five minutes because he feels like the walls are going to start closing in on him. He’s still coming to terms with the fact that his life is completely different, now.

“I guess it just feels like all I’m doing is barely making it through,” he murmurs, hanging his head a little. He bites on his lower lip, his brows furrowed. “I can still feel it. My leg. It’s so weird. I remember this one time when I’d just gotten home, my mom came to wake me up in the morning. She sat down on my bed right where my leg would have been and I had this knee-jerk reaction to move my legs so she wouldn’t sit on me. It was so strange. And sometimes I wake up and it just… _Hurts_. Kind of like it’s been asleep, like it’s still there.”

Danny purses her lips, a small wrinkle of worry forming between her brows. “Does that still happen often?”

He shakes his head, looking up at her again. “Not as much as it used to. I still pretty much always feel that my leg is still there, but the pain isn’t as constant as it used to be. It used to be awful, and there was nothing I could do about it when it happened. It’s not like pain killers are gonna work when my leg isn’t even really there.”

“I’m glad it’s getting better, at least,” she says quietly, lifting her head. She lowers her hand to reach for him, running her fingers through his hair like she did the first time, in the car. Only this time, no one is there to interrupt. “You look really good, Kirsch. Happy. Coming home has been good to you.”

Kirsch feels his heart flutter in his chest and he swallows a lump in his throat. Maybe it’s the wine, but there’s something different in the way she looks at him. But that’s almost definitely his imagination. She already told him a long time ago that she likes girls. It’s probably just the wine.

“Wh– what about you?” he asks, clearing his throat. It’s hard for him to concentrate when she’s still playing with his hair like that, pushing his bangs away from his eyes. “How’s home been treating you?”

She releases a sigh, looking away from him momentarily. “Fine, I suppose. I haven’t really thought too much about it. I still never see my dad, but I should have guessed it would be like that. The man doesn’t know how to stop working.”

He looks up at her, concerned. What she’s told him of her parents gives him the feeling that she might not have the best relationship with them. He hopes that isn’t completely true. “But you’ve seen him, yeah? What about your mom?”

“I definitely see her more,” she sidesteps, shrugging. “My mother and I aren’t really the same kind of people. I think she sort of wonders where I came from. She’s… I don’t know, she’s all dinner parties, and pretty dresses, and pristine white linens. All she ever wanted from me was a daughter who could talk her about… I don’t know, makeup and _Better Homes and Gardens_ , I guess. What she got was a tomboy.”

She releases a small, sardonic laugh, continuing. “You could not wrestle me into a dress, when I was a kid. I used to come home covered in mud from playing soccer with the boys on base and she’d just rip into me. D.C. is a much better fit for her than an army base ever was.”

A small smile pulls at edge of his lips. He can easily picture an 8-year-old Danny Lawrence, nothing but scraped knees and freckles. “And what about you? Is D.C. a good fit for you?”

She gives him a crooked smile, shaking her head. “I was going crazy before I left to fly here. I’m not really looking forward to going back. I love my parents, honestly, it’s just…”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not really the person they want me to be, and there’s so much… Space. Even when both my parents are home, it feels like the house is empty,” she tells him. She settles into the couch a little further, and Kirsch thinks she might be a little closer to him than before. “We spend dinner every night talking about nothing of importance and ignoring every opportunity to actually make any kind of real connection with each other. I’m twenty-two years old and they still have no desire to know who I am as a person.”

Kirsch frowns and his brows knit together. It’s not fair of him to judge her parents, but he can’t help but feel a little angry for her. Especially when he thinks about how great his relationship is with his mom. She deserves to have support like that. “Maybe I don’t really know what I’m talking about, but I can’t see why they wouldn’t want anything other than you. You have so much to be proud of.”

She gives him a wry smile. “Thank you. I mean, it doesn’t help that they probably think I’m gay, but they also haven’t ever tried to talk to me about it. It’s not like it’s a conversation I really want to have with them. It’s hard enough trying to explain bisexuality to people within the queer community, let alone my well-bred, conservative parents.”

His eyebrows shoot up and he has to take a moment to fully comprehend what she just told him. “You’re bisexual,” he repeats, blinking at her. He shakes his head, recovering. “No, yeah, I can imagine how that might not be a fun conversation. I… I can’t say I’ve ever had to do anything like that.”

He bites his lip, pausing for a moment. “So you… I mean, I guess I thought…”

“That I’m gay?”

“Well. I mean, you had that thing with Mel, back in Germany.”

She shakes her head a sigh, laughing. “I swear to god, Kirsch...”

“I’m sorry!” he immediately apologizes, glad at least that she’s laughing. He realizes now that it was probably stupid of him, but he also had never wanted to push her. He didn’t want to put her in an awkward position, having been his nurse and all. “Here I did the exact same thing your parents are doing. I’m sorry.”

“Well,” she shrugs, her hand coming to rest at the back of his neck, threaded through his hair. “It’s not like the situation is exactly the same. There’s a lot we weren’t really allowed talk about. Being bi really isn’t that big of a deal, though.”

“I guess I’ve never really thought about it,” he confesses, frowning a little in thought.

“Most people don’t. I mean, most of the time I’m attracted to women, so for a long time I thought I was gay. We live in a society where it’s treated like a phase or promiscuity if you don’t just settle on either gay or straight,” she explains. She sounds like she’s had this conversation before, and he feels a little guilty for putting her in the position of having it again. “And I imagine that if you fall closer to the hetero side that you might not even think about it at all.”

Kirsch knows that she’s not talking about him specifically, but now there are gears turning in his head. He’d been on the football team in high school, and then in the army after that. Other men’s bodies aren’t exactly a foreign concept to him, and now that she brings it up, he realizes he’s never actually considered the thought that men are... well. He’s definitely not disgusted by them. But that’s normal, right?

“Kirsch?”

He snaps back to attention, eyes on hers. “Mm?”

Danny’s lips start to turn up in a smirk. “You okay, there?”

“Yeah, no I’m fine,” he assures her, giving her a sheepish smile. “I guess you’re right. I’ve never thought about it.”

She grins, arching an eyebrow at him. “Why? Do you have anything you want to confess to me, Kirsch? Any long-buried feelings you want to hash out?”

He’s pretty sure that he’s blushing deeply at this point, and he stares at her like a doe caught in a pair of headlights. “... No.”

She laughs and reaches to grab the bottle of wine from him, draining the rest of its contents. “Sure thing, Kirsch.”

* * *

When Kirsch finally wakes up the next morning, he’s confused by the weight he finds on his midsection. He opens his eyes, squinting at the light filtering through the living room window until he looks down to find a mess of red hair nestled against his chest.

So, that’s new.

His pulse immediately spikes and he has to restrain himself from making any sudden movements so as not to wake her. At some point either Laura or Carmilla (let’s be real, probably Laura) had decided to drape a blanket over the two of them on their way out the door and the empty bottle of wine is still sitting on the coffee table in front of them. He even has his arms around her, which he definitely doesn’t remember happening last night. When did they fall asleep? What else doesn’t he remember? He hopes that hasn’t forgotten anything important.

(Oh god, what if he forgot something important.)

It takes him a moment to calm down and recover from the initial shock of waking up wrapped up in Danny Lawrence, but he manages to do so before she wakes up. He takes a deep breath and loosens his arms around her and tries to find a more suitable place for his hands. He wonders if he could possibly extract himself from her without disturbing her, but he doesn’t think he can. He’s just going to have to deal with the fact that he’s stuck until she starts waking up, but he can think of worse positions to be in. Relatively speaking, this isn’t awful. His leg is a little sore, but he’s definitely not complaining.

Kirsch lets his head rest against the back of the couch again and closes his eyes, sighing. He’s busy wondering if he should be more concerned about how easy it feels to wake up to her like this when she finally starts stirring. He opens his eyes again, looking down to meet her sleepy gaze.

“Um,” he starts, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I uh. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“... Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she starts, immediately pulling away from him. She reaches up to rub the sleep out of her eyes, her hair a mess.

“No, it’s okay,” he tries to tell her, sitting up a little more, straightening himself. He can’t say for sure, but he’s pretty sure he’s probably blushing. “It’s fine, I promise. I mean, I’m not mad, or anything.”

She shakes her head, giving him an embarrassed laugh. “I don’t even know when we fell asleep. Did we finish off that bottle?”

“Uh… yeah,” he confirms, laughing. “Yeah, I think we did.”

“Oh god,” she groans, making a face at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stay over.”

“Honestly, you don’t have to apologize to me,” he insists, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “No harm done here, my leg’s just a little stiff.”

“Did you have your prosthetic on all night?” she asks, concern rising in her voice. She immediately bends to examine his leg, jumping into nurse mode. “Is it okay?”

“Danny, it’s okay,” he promises, giving her a small laugh. He reaches to adjust his leg, releasing the pin that holds the prosthetic in place. “It’s probably just going to be a little stiff today.”

“We were going to go to some of the museums today, weren’t we?” she asks, still hovering worriedly.

“Yeah, we can still go,” he tells her with a small shrug. He lays the prosthetic on the table in front of them and starts to peel off the sleeve that he wears under it on his leg. “I mean, I can take crutches, or whatever.”

Danny watches him, chewing on her bottom lip. “We don’t have to go, it’s not that big of a deal. We can try to make time later, or…”

He gives her a small laugh. “Danny…”

“No, I’m serious,” she insists. “We’re starting late anyway. We can just take it easy, today. It’s been a big week and we still have Disneyland this weekend. We can rest up and… I don’t know, watch dumb movies, or whatever.”

He raises his eyebrows at her. “Are you sure? I don’t want to keep you from making the most of your trip. I’ll have time to rest up later.”

“I’m sure,” she nods, giving him an encouraging smile. “We’ll just hang out. And I can go back to the hotel later to pack up and get ready for Disney.”

He gives her a crooked smile. “Okay, deal. Dumb movies. I’m pretty sure we’ve got some of those.”

“Perfect,” she agrees, returning his smile.

* * *

They end up spend most of the day being lazy and watching TV, as well as talking a bit more. Carmilla comes home early from work to pack for both her and Laura and raises her eyebrows at them both as she passes through. Coincidentally, it’s right around that time that Danny decides to go back to her hotel to shower and pack for their weekend at Disneyland. The plan is to start driving as soon as Laura gets off work so they don’t roll into LA too late. The drive is pretty lengthy, but it’s worth it.

Kirsch wakes up from napping near the end of the drive, in the front next to Carmilla in the driver’s seat. He rubs his eyes and turns to find Danny and Laura both passed out in the back. He smiles a little and faces forward again, reaching for one of the bottles of water they’d brought with them.

“How much longer have we got?” he asks, cracking the bottle open. He takes a drink before offering it Carmilla.

She takes the bottle from him and takes a sip before handing it back. “A little over an hour, probably. We’re almost to the outskirts.”

“Have they been asleep this whole time?” he asks, tossing his head back to other two in the back. He feels kind of bad for taking what kind of feels like Laura’s spot in the front, but she had insisted. She reasoned that she had shorter legs, so it was only fair, and he’d learned a long time ago not to argue.

“They fell asleep right after you did,” Carmilla replies with a smirk. “I’m pretty sure your girlfriend only decided to take a nap because both you and Laura were dead to the world and she didn’t want to get stuck alone with me.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Kirsch immediately corrects, tossing her an annoyed glare. He glances back to Danny to double check that she’s asleep. “She’s not– We’re not– Stop saying that, okay? Don’t make it weird. You could be a little nicer to her, you know.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums, her grin widening a little. “Like I was nice to you?”

Kirsch laughs at that. “God, no. Are you nice to anyone?”

Carmilla just shrugs in response, pleased with herself.

He shakes his head with a small smile, releasing a huff. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Still though, it’d be nice if you didn’t chase her away.”

She raises her eyebrows at him pointedly.

“She’s _not my girlfriend,”_ he repeats himself. He’s starting to sound like a broken record and he’s not really sure how to feel about that. “I’m just saying that she’s leaving soon and we’re going to Disneyland. You could try a little harder to help make her trip a bit more enjoyable.”

“You know I’m only coming along because of Laura, don’t you, champ?” she points out with a sidelong glance.

“Well, _yeah,”_ he smirks back at her. “And don’t think I won’t tell on you if I have to.”

Carmilla rolls her eyes with an annoyed groan. “Fine, I’ll tone it down since you asked so nicely. But don’t think I won’t bite back if she bears her teeth at me again.”

“Thanks, Mills,” he grins eagerly. Getting Carmilla to agree to anything kinda seems like a triumph. Maybe, if he’s lucky, they might actually see eye to eye eventually. But that might be a little much to ask for when she’s got less than a week left.

 _Shit,_ Danny’s got less than a week left in California. But he already knew it wasn’t going to last forever.

* * *

 

Kirsch has only had the pleasure of going to Disneyland a few times in his life. He lives in the same state, sure, but LA is still a pretty significant drive from the Bay Area and he and his mom weren’t exactly rolling in money when he was younger. He hasn’t even been back since graduating high school, so now that he’s older and he’s here with his own patchwork version of a pseudo-family, he’s pretty excited. However, Laura might be even more excited than him, and her enthusiasm is so contagious that even Carmilla cracks a smile as they pass through the gates into the Magic Kingdom.

It turns out, being a disabled war veteran in Disneyland isn’t half bad. He and Danny both have their military IDs, so their tickets are pretty steeply discounted, and they get to jump to the front of the line on pretty much any ride they want. He can only take one of them at a time on some of the rides, but half the time Carmilla insists that she’s perfectly fine waiting for them. Apparently Laura drags her to Disneyland almost every year, so she’s pretty good at pretending that she doesn’t really care, but Kirsch doesn’t miss the sparkle in her eyes when they ride Pirates of the Caribbean together.

(And he tries very hard to ignore the way his heart rate spikes after he accidentally grabs onto Danny’s arm on the Tower of Terror. She insists that he doesn’t need to apologize.)

At the end of their second day, they’re all exhausted and they decide that should probably start heading back to San Francisco, but suddenly the fireworks start and Carmilla, surprisingly, is the first one of them to stop and suggest they stay just a little longer.

They line up along the edge of the lake near Frontier Land and stare up at the colors bursting against the night sky. Kirsch looks to his right and smiles at all three of his companions, each one with the same look of awe-struck wonder in their eyes. For a brief moment, he feels like everything has settled into place, like right here is exactly where he’s supposed to be. It’s weird to think about, considering all that’s happened over the course of the last year. He has three of the best friends he’s ever had at his side, and he kind of wonders if Will is out there somewhere, looking down on the rest of them. His mom always believed in that kind of thing, and maybe she’s right. He hopes Will knows that he wishes he could be there too.

Kirsch is still staring up at the sparks of the last firework blast as they fade against the black backdrop of the night sky when he feels a tug at his hand. He looks down to find Danny’s hand at the other end, pulling him toward the retreating form of Laura and Carmilla wrapped up in each other.

“C’mon, it’s a long drive back,” she tells him with a small smile. “I don’t want to wear you out too badly.”

 _“Ouch,_ D-Bear,” he laughs, letting her lead him toward the front gates of the park. Laura and Carmilla are still a little ahead of them, but he’s in no rush to catch up. “I’m not an old man.”

“‘D-Bear?’” she asks him, raising her eyebrows pointedly.

He shrugs, a little sheepish. “It kinda slipped out.”

“It’s okay,” she assures him, amused. “You called me that when you were in the hospital. You were on medication and that’s when the fevers were getting pretty bad, I’m not sure if you remember.”

He shakes his head. He feels a strange tug at his heart, thinking back on that. He can’t remember much from before his surgery, and it all kind of blurs together still. He thinks he remembers her, though, and her freckles like stars dusted on her nose and cheeks.

She clear her throat, her hand still in his as she stares ahead. They’re surrounded by people, but it kind of feels like it’s just them. “Yeah, this was right after you told me that my hair reminded you of the sunset.”

Kirsch’s eyes widen and his heart leaps into his throat. “Oh. Oh, I don’t– I hope I didn’t– I’m sorry.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “It’s okay, I promise. It would’ve been kind of adorable if I wasn’t, you know. Really concerned for your health, at the time.”

He gives her a wry smile, and he’s about to answer when he hears Carmilla call after them from ahead.

“Hey, Achilles!” she shouts, her hand cupped around her mouth. “You and Xena better hurry up, we’ve got a tram to catch to the parking lot.”

Kirsch rolls his eyes and gives Danny an apologetic look. “I guess we should catch up.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll catch up to them in like two strides,” Danny points out with a small laugh. She lets go of his hand and Kirsch can still feel his palm tingling. “It doesn’t matter if they get there before us, though. Laura should probably ride shotgun if she wants to get some rest before work tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, nodding. “Yeah, that makes sense. She should definitely be able to ride shotgun, I kind of felt bad for taking her seat on the ride up.”

“Well, this time you can keep me company.”

He smiles at her, a thrill running through him. But she probably didn’t mean anything by it, she’s just looking out for Laura. And it makes sense that she would, she and Laura have been getting along really well since Danny arrived in San Francisco

They spend the ride home sleeping in the back seat, Danny’s head resting on his shoulder.

* * *

After Disneyland, the rest of Danny’s planned trip goes by more quickly than Kirsch would like. Instead of driving back to her hotel, Danny ends up staying over again and on Monday she goes back to the hotel to regroup and rest a bit more while Kirsch goes to physical therapy. That night, they go to the dive bar and play pool, and then they’re back to sightseeing the next day. They visit a few museums and and catch a Giants game and before they know it, it’s the night before Danny’s flight back to D.C. leaves.

It sucks to have to say goodbye to Danny twice.

They’d all had dinner at Laura and Carmilla’s again, and Kirsch is trying to bide his time before she goes back to her hotel because he’s not quite ready to let her go yet. Instead, he’s doing the dishes and he doesn’t argue when she offers to help.

They stand in silence in the middle of the kitchen for too long, the only sound coming from the sink as he pulls plates out of the soapy water and scrubs them until they’re clean so he can hand them to Danny to dry. He kicks himself for every minute he doesn’t spend talking with her. He’s only got so many minutes left.

“I’m really glad you came out to visit me,” he says finally, clearing his throat as he hands over a plate. He doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

“I’m really glad I made it out here too,” she replies. He tries to squash out the glimmer of hope that it gives him. He knows there’s no point.

He focuses instead on the next plate to scrub. “It’ll suck when you’re gone. I mean, I feel like we’ve only become better friends and now you have to go.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” she agrees, releasing a long sigh. It’s a little comforting to hear that she might miss him too.

He looks up at her finally, frowning a little. “It just sucks. We didn’t even get to go to a 49ers game or anything. They’re starting the pre-season soon.”

Danny bites her lip, taking another plate from him, apparently concentrating very hard on drying it.

She clears her throat after a moment, raising an eyebrow. “... How soon does the pre-season start? Like next week, right?”

He looks up at her, not sure how he’s supposed to react to that. She can’t possibly be considering staying. “... Yeah, I was actually wondering if I could talk Laura and Carmilla into going with me. I’m pretty sure Carmilla hates anything that involves physical activity and balls, though. Um… sports especially, I mean.”

Danny grins at his unintentional pun and then purses her lips a moment before answering him. “What if I stayed a little longer and went with you? Do you think we could get tickets?”

Kirsch’s eyebrows shoot up and he gapes at her. It’s like his brain has short-circuited and he’s not sure where he’s standing or what he’s doing for a second. “I mean. Yeah, probably. What about your flight?”

“I can cancel and catch a later one. No big deal,” she replies, brushing off his concerns with a shrug. “I’ll just extend my stay at the hotel and keep the car for a few more days. I’m sure my parents won’t mind.”

Suddenly, Kirsch hears a small thud from the hallway and a quiet _“Ow.”_ The two of them both whip around to find Laura stumble out from the other side of the wall, bouncing on one leg.

 _“Stupid end table,”_ she mutters, her face screwed in pain.

“Are… You okay?” Danny asks, still clutching the same plate she’s been drying for the last several minutes.

“Oh, I’m fine!” she insists, giving them both an awkward smile. “It’s fine, honestly.”

“Oh, um. Good,” Kirsch replies, sharing a glance with Danny.

“I totally wasn’t eavesdropping,” Laura adds immediately, which doesn’t exactly reassure him. “I was coming to get a drink of water and I stubbed my toe.”

“Did... you still need a drink of water?” he asks, hesitant.

“Yes,” she nods. She pushes past the two of them to get a cup from the cupboard before she suddenly whirls around again. “Danny, why don’t you stay here?”

“What?”

“I mean, staying in a hotel for much longer will probably be really expensive and we have an extra room and a car that you can use. We can put down a blow-up mattress in Carmilla’s office and it’ll be totally fine. You don’t need to stay in a hotel.”

“But–”

“Honestly, it’s no trouble at all,” Laura continues before Danny can decline. “And I’d hate to think we’re making you stay in a hotel when we’ve got a perfectly good room for you here. Plus it would probably be much easier, right? Less time spent coordinating so you guys can do more stuff!”

Kirsch glances between Laura and Danny, giving her an encouraging shrug when she looks like she doesn’t know how to respond. He’d feel a little better knowing she wasn’t spending too much money on a hotel and gas, too.

“Well… I guess it makes sense,” Danny finally replies, looking like she’s not totally sure about this arrangement, despite Laura’s confidence.

“Great!” Laura claps her hands once, triumphant. “I’ll let Carmilla know! We’ll have it all ready for you by tomorrow night so you don’t need to worry or anything. Will you need help getting your stuff here? I’m sure we can help you with that so you can return your rental car too.”

“Uh, yeah,” Danny answers. She looks up at a Kirsch and sends him a questioning smile. All he can do is grin back at her and spread his hands in confusion. He’s learned not to question Laura’s motives too much. “Thanks, Laura.”

“It’s not a problem at all! It’ll be so great to have you,” she beams. She moves to fill her cup up with water, before moving to retreat back to the back of the house. “So, uh. I’ll leave you guys to it. Goodnight!”

“‘Night, Laura,” Kirsch calls after her. He turns to look at Danny, still reeling a little from this very swift turn of events. He blows out a long sigh, his cheeks puffing out. “So, um. You have a place to stay. If you want to stay.”

“I want to stay.”

“Okay, good. Because you don’t need to feel obligated or anything, if you need to get back to D.C. But you can definitely stay with us a little longer, if you want–”

“Kirsch,” she cuts in, a little more firmly. She sets the plate in her hands down and reaches to squeeze his arm. “I’d love to stay a little longer and go to a 49ers game with you.”

His face splits into a lopsided grin and he breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay. Okay, good. I’d really like that, too.”

* * *

Kirsch and Laura are both positively thrilled to have Danny around all the time. She meshes with both of their routines fairly quickly and Kirsch finds that he’s much more motivated to get up and do things with her around, rather than just sit around the house all day.

Carmilla, on the other hand, is less than thrilled to lose her office, but Kirsch suspects that Laura has her ways of keeping her quiet about it. He’s grateful that she’s not openly hostile, at least.

Danny starts accompanying him to a few of his physical therapy sessions and asks a lot of questions, telling him that she’s genuinely interested in how he’s been making progress. He can’t help but puff up in pride a little bit when his therapist mentions how well he’s been doing, and the smile he gets from Danny in return is almost enough to make him lose his balance.

He makes good on his promise to take her to a pre-season 49ers game and he spends the entire time trying not to show just how excited he is about finally attending a live game after so many years. He’s pretty sure that he doesn’t do a very good job of keeping it cool, but Danny is yelling and hollering at every play right along with him. He gets such a genuine rush from it, even if it’s just a pre-season game, that he’s still talking about it to anyone who’ll listen hours later. He’s pretty sure that Laura doesn’t understand half of what he says at the dinner table, but she does her best and grins back at him during the high points of his recap. Carmilla seems more amused than anything else, but he’ll take it.

(He might have to go pick up more of his old jerseys from his mom’s house soon.)

A little over a week later, Danny’s still there and he figures he’d rather just not question it. He’ll take any extra time that she’ll spare for him. They’re already in overtime.

He’s been riding so high and so hard for so long, though, and he should know that it would catch up to him eventually. The phantom pains he can manage, but he’s been due for a bad nightmare for a while, now.

At this point, he’s not sure if the Will he sees in his dreams is really what his friend looked like. All he can see anymore is dark eyes that bore into his soul as the man who was once his best friend torments him. It’s not even what this nightmare version of Will says or what he does that really gets to him either, because he knows what it all means. He’s a traitor, a usurper. The roof that stands above his head should be Will’s.

 _“She’ll never really care about you,”_ Will whispers in his ear. He follows so closely behind Kirsch that he swears he can feel breath on his ear as he moves forward. He’s in a dark house, opening door after door to find a way out. Each time he passes through a door, he’s lead into a room that ‘s even darker and more decrepit than the one before it. There are never any windows and the walls are filled with cracks. He feels like the walls are closing in on him every time he reaches for a new doorknob.

“Shut up,” Kirsch pleads, turning to try and push Will away. Wherever Will is, he’s always just beyond the corners of his eyes, escaping him.

_“You don’t deserve her. My sister will never forget what you did to me.”_

Kirsch whirls around and tries to grab onto Will, but all he can feel is the flutter of fabric as he twists out of his reach. “Shut up, shut up!”

“Kirsch!”

He wakes up in a sweat to Danny shaking him awake. It’s still dark, but her skin glows in the moonlight. He’s starting to lose track of how many times he’s woken up to find her face hovering above his, and he kind feels like waking up to someone like Danny should be a lot more pleasant. But that’s not really her fault.

“Hey, it’s okay. You were dreaming,” she tells him, hovering over his bed. Her hand is still on his shoulder and her thumb slowly brushes along the edge of the new tattoo on his shoulder, causing a shiver to shoot up his spine. He fears that it has little to do with either the cool night air circulating through his room or how sensitive his skin still is right there. She looks down at him with such concern that he’s scared of what he must have been saying in his sleep to make her look at him like that.

Now that he’s awake, he realizes that he’s breathing too hard but he still can’t catch his breath. There had been bombs, right before she woke him up. A lot of them.

“Sorry,” he tells her, sitting up. He reaches to wipe sweat from his eyes, pushing his hair from his face. _Slow down,_ he tells himself. Dr. Perry had taught him how to slow down and steady his breathing, but he’s still trying to get the hang of it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. Was I loud? It was just a dream, right?”

“No, Kirsch, don’t apologize,” she insists, shaking her head as she sits at the edge of his bed. “I couldn’t sleep anyway. You sounded pretty upset, so I thought I should check on you.”

“God, I’m so sorry, “ he breathes. He wants to assure her that everything’s fine that that she should just go back to her room, but Will’s dead eyes still loom in the back corners of his mind, like he’s just waiting until Kirsch is alone again.

“Kirsch, is everything okay?”

He releases a humorless laugh, looking away from her. He had hoped that he’d be able to hold everything together until she left. He’s thrilled that she’s decided to stay longer, but he was only going to be able to keep this stuff under wraps for so long. He didn’t want her to see him like this.

When he doesn’t answer her, Danny moves closer and wraps her arms around him. He doesn’t have the strength to protest or pull away, and instead he melts into her arms, closing his eyes and burying himself in the safety of her protection. He doesn’t know how he’s ever going to let go of her.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats himself again, after several minutes. He can’t say for sure how long it’s been. “You don’t have to stay, you probably should get back to bed.”

“I can stay, Kirsch,” she says quietly, gently smoothing his hair back from his eyes. Kirsch thinks he can hear her heart with the way his ear is pressed to her chest like this.

A part of him thinks he should be stronger, that he should insist that she go back to her own bed. She’s not going to stay forever, after all. It’s like Germany all over again. If he lets himself use her as a crutch, he’s only going to fall harder when she’s gone.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” She nods, pulling back a little so she can give him a gentle smile. She adjusts so she can lay down next to him under the covers. When she pulls him close again, she’s pressed against his back and her arms are wrapped around his shoulders so she can go back to stroking his hair. He suddenly finds himself very grateful that Carmilla insisted on buying him a bigger bed.

He breathes in deeply, his heartbeat having returned to a somewhat normal pace. The panic that had seized his chest is gone, anyway, and an unfamiliar sense of warmth has settled in its place. He’s not sure when he’d last genuinely felt this kind of comfort. Facing nights alone has become a harrowing torture that he hasn’t figured out how to get away from.

(He hates being alone, especially at night, when all he can hear is his own breathing, reminding him constantly that he’s alive and Will isn’t.)

“Thank you,” he tells her, settled safely in her arms like she’s a shield on his back.

“Of course,” she assures him. Her lips are close to his ear and he hopes she doesn’t feel the shiver that involuntarily runs down his back. “Besides, your bed is a lot more comfortable than an air mattress on hardwood. I’m pretty sure I’ll survive.”

He laughs, the mere sensation of it bringing relief to his nerves. “I see how it is. You were after my mattress all this time.”

“You caught me,” she drawls, and he can tell she’s smiling. “Now get some rest, Kirsch.”

* * *

When Kirsch finally wakes up again, Danny is gone. It takes him a moment to reorient himself, but he realizes that she must have gotten up to go on her morning run. He doesn’t know how she does it, but she manages to wake up every morning with the sun so she can jog and take a shower by the time Kirsch finishes breakfast.

He groans, sitting up and stretching before he swings his legs over the edge of his bed so he can put on his prosthetic. He can’t say for sure, but he thinks he might feel more rested than he has been since before he joined the army.

By the time he can venture out to the kitchen for breakfast, Danny’s back from her run and rehydrating. He grins eagerly at her in greeting and she returns it easily. He’s glad at least that things don’t seem to be awkward between them, now. After all, it isn’t actually the first time they’ve slept in the same space.

“How’d your run go?” he asks her, leaning against the counter.

She smiles at him, playing with the lid on her water bottle a little. “It was good. Your neighborhood is pretty great for running.”

“Is it?” he asks, laughing a little. “It’s been forever since I’ve been able to plan out a jog route. I kinda miss it, honestly.”

“Well, why don’t you join me sometime?” she offers simply, “Your physical therapist said himself that you’ve been flying through your exercises and you’ve been walking so well the whole time I’ve been here.”

Kirsch opens his mouth to protest, unsure. It feels like it’s too soon. “I don’t know, D.”

“What’s the harm in trying, huh? Especially when you have me, a trained medical professional, to help you out.”

He has to admit that she has a point.

“We can talk to your therapist about it at your next appointment,” she continues. “He can help me learn how to help you and we can try it out for a bit. See how you feel.”

If he’s being honest with himself, he knows that being unable to participate in physical activity has been a large contributing factor to his depression. There are other factors as well, for obvious reasons, but one thing he has always wished he could do was go run it out. He feels trapped by his own body and the extra pounds he’s put on since coming home haven’t helped either. And how’s he supposed to fix that if he never tries?

“Yeah, okay,” he finally agrees, perking up a little. If anything, she’s going to be able to give him his best shot at getting back into physical activity.

“Great, we can talk about it at your appointment,” she beams. She pulls off the towel she has thrown over one shoulder and throws it at him, hitting him squarely in the chest. “That way we can whip you back into shape.”

He laughs, catching her towel so he can throw it back. “Oh, is that how it is?”

“That’s how it is,” she grins. “Your ass is gonna be mine, _bro.”_

Carmilla, who Kirsch hadn’t even really noticed up until this point, clears her throat pointedly from the table without looking up from her paper and obligatory morning cup of coffee. “‘Morning.”

He blushes, freezing abruptly like a kid caught playing ball inside the house. “... Good morning.”

“Sleep well?” she asks. She has a look on her face that can only mean that she knows exactly where Danny ended up last night.

“Um,” he replies, turning to the fridge so he can raid it for a bagel. “Yeah, I slept great. Did you sleep well?”

“I slept very well, thank you,” Carmilla grins.

Danny coughs and turns away from the both of them. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

Kirsch watches her as she escapes to the back of the house before he turns to glare at Carmilla.

“Hey, I could have dumped water on you both this morning,” she points out, shrugging. “I’m not going to have to establish house rules, am I? Laura may have adopted you both, but this house isn’t big enough for you two to drop a litter of puppies.”

“Oh my god, Carmilla.”

* * *

Danny accompanies him to his next physical therapy appointment and he’s surprised to find that his therapist is actually really optimistic about helping him learn to run. Kirsch gets a rush of excitement when they start going over stride technique and Danny gets to learn about how to help him so they can start running together. On the way home, they stop by the mall to pick up running shoes and some new workout gear.

They ease into it slowly, making sure to stretch fully and jog carefully. He can tell that Danny is holding back at first, and she often jogs backwards so she can help keep an eye on him. It’s a little unsteady for him, at first, and he feels like he’s gonna keel over in exhaustion after an embarrassingly short amount of time, but he’s not falling on his ass either. He’s starting to think that maybe he was scared for nothing.

After the first few days of joining Danny on her morning runs (and a few nights of her keeping him safe from his nightmares), he starts to feel like he’s getting the hang of being active again. Danny is a good running partner, and he actually enjoys returning drenched in sweat each morning when they arrive back at the house for showers and breakfast. He gets to see Laura before she leaves for work now, instead of sleeping through until noon. It’s kind of nice, and she’s much more cheerful breakfast company than Carmilla had ever been.

(And speaking of Carmilla, he’s fairly certain that she’s only more disgusted at having yet another morning person in the house. She glares at all of them every single day while she nurses several cups of coffee.)

It’s one morning as Kirsch and Danny are getting breakfast ready together that Laura looks at them like she’s doing everything she can to keep herself from saying something. He’s really not sure what she’s got on her mind, but he’s also pretty sure it’s only a matter of time before she spills the beans.

“Danny,” she starts finally, and Kirsch tosses Danny a knowing glance. She returns it with a smirk and it’s clear that he’s not the only one who noticed Laura’s antsy behavior.

“Yes, Laura?” she answers expectantly, smiling up at her from where she’s helping Kirsch put a couple of omelettes together.

“I was just thinking,” Laura continues, clearly having been sitting on this for a little while now, “What are your plans? I mean, now that you’re back in the states. Do you have a job lined up or anything like that?”

Danny turns to share another glance with Kirsch where he’s chopping a few vegetables, and he shrugs in turn. He and Laura haven’t discussed anything about this, so he has no idea where she’s going with it.

“I don’t have a job lined up yet, no,” she replies, with a small frown on her lips, thinking. “I was thinking I might take it easy for a little bit so I can take my time to figure that out.”

“Oh, I see. No, yeah, that totally makes sense, a break can be really good to help you get a handle on that kind of stuff,” Laura agrees, rambling a little. She gives a small laugh, shaking her head. “I mean, you wouldn’t want to jump into anything, right?”

“That’s the plan, anyway,” Danny adds, smirking a little.

“It’s just–”

Danny raises her eyebrows, questioning.

“I was thinking about it all day yesterday. It’s been really great having you around, you know?” Laura adds, smiling brightly. “I mean, I’d say we’re friends, you’ve been living under our roof for almost a week and a half now.”

“Yeah, I think we can say we’re friends,” Danny agrees with a laugh. She looks up from the egg concoction that she’s prepared for their omelettes. “Well, except for maybe Carmilla. I still think she doesn’t like me very much.”

“Carmilla doesn’t like anyone at first, honestly,” Laura points out, reassuring Danny. “Take it from us.”

Kirsch nods, dumping the tomatoes he’s just chopped up into a small bowl so they can use them later. “It’s true. Remember how she hated me?”

“True,” Danny concedes, looking between the two of them warily. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

Kirsch turns back to Laura, waiting for her to get to the point.

“I was just thinking that, you know, after you’re ready to figure out where you want to go, that maybe we can help with that,” Laura replies, smiling hopefully. “One of my best friends from college, Dr. LaFontaine, is actually a surgeon at one of the hospitals close by. I’m positive that they can help you get your foot in the door if you want to start looking at jobs.”

Danny opens her mouth to respond, but instead she turns to Krisch again, like he can offer some kind of guidance or answers. He’s just as surprised as she is, though.

“Oh, well…” Danny starts, her eyes still on Kirsch. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Laura…”

Kirsch tries to think of something to say, any kind of halfway-intelligent contribution to add, but he draws a complete blank. He knows how _he_ feels about this suggestion, obviously. If he had any say in the matter, Danny would have officially moved out here _yesterday._ She’s one of the closest friends he has in his life right now, and he cares deeply for her. He’s not exactly eager to watch her fly away in giant airplane. But this isn’t about him. He knows that.

So he goes back to chopping vegetables, keeping his head down.

“It’s just something to think about?” Laura squeaks, trying to be helpful. “You’d already have a support system with us.”

Kirsch can feel Danny’s eyes on him. He wants to say something, he really does. He wants to drop to his knees and beg for her to stay, to tell her that there’s nothing else in this world that he’d rather have. But he can’t make her do anything, he doesn’t _want_ to make her do anything. He’d feel awful if she just did it because he told her to.

“I’ll… I’ll keep it in mind,” Danny agrees, clearing her throat. She turns to the stove and pours egg into the hot pan. “I appreciate it, Laura. And I really will think about it.”

He looks up to find Laura looking at him sadly. She offers him a small smile, looking like she very much wants tell him something. He feels like he might know what she’s trying to say, but Laura doesn’t understand. He can’t tell Danny what to do.

When Carmilla finally rolls out of bed to consume her first cup of coffee for the day, he’s glad to have someone there to break the tension. At least her complete lack of consideration or manners is good for something.

* * *

A few days later, Carmilla announces that she’s reclaiming her office. Danny has wound up in Kirsch’s bed several nights in a row now, and there’s little that either of them can do to really hide it. So Danny tells Kirsch that it seems fair enough to her and he’s just grateful that she’s still willing to help him out with his nightmares.

(Even if this method is a little unconventional. He won’t complain.)

One last thing that Laura decides they should all do is attend a local outdoor music festival that happens every year. It was one of the things that Laura had first suggested when Danny was initially planning to visit and had been a little sad to learn that her original dates would mean that they’d just miss it. When Danny decided to stay a little longer, it was back on the agenda.

For once, Carmilla actually seems genuinely excited to go with them. Apparently it’s something that she and Laura try to catch every year and they hadn’t been able to make it last time. So she doesn’t complain as much as usual as they all pile into one of the cars and drive out to stand and watch a few bands play on an outdoor stage.

Kirsch doesn’t really know a lot about music, but he thinks the bands are pretty good. All four of them are really enjoying themselves until Kirsch accidentally knocks into some drunk guy in a backwards trucker cap and cargo shorts. He apologizes, but that doesn’t stop this asshole from deciding to make it his mission to take Kirsch down a few pegs, as if he needs it.

“Hey!” the guy yells, clutching onto his budweiser. “Hey, Blackbeard, where’s your parrot?”

Kirsch can feel the muscles in his back all lock up and his expression darkens. He assumes it’s better not to engage this guy so he turns around to steer his attention back toward the stage, but he thinks he can feel the three girls tense up around him as well.

“Dude,” the guy continues, “What did you do, blow your leg off in Iraq? Sorry I don’t have any spare change for you, but you’ll still need it in ten years when you’re begging for quarters on the street.”

He grits his teeth and his hands ball into fists. He’s better than this asshole, he knows that. He doesn’t deserve his attention. He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. It’s not worth it.

“How much did you have to pay them to keep you company, huh? Did my tax dollars pay for you to get your dick su–”

“Okay, you know what asshole?” Danny whirls around and gets right in the guy’s face. Drawn to her full height, she’s a little taller than this trucker hat asshole and the guy visibly withers under her stare for a moment before puffing his chest out again. “As you have so astutely guessed, my friend here is a war veteran. He’s seen active combat and he risked his life for your sorry neck, so show some goddamned respect.”

The guy sneers, red in the face and practically drooling over her. “I didn’t realize your bitch was a guard dog, too.”

Danny sets her jaw so tightly that her face turns pale. Kirsch watches as her fingers curl into a fist and he’s never seen her look so dangerous. If he was that guy, he’d probably be shitting his pants.

“Walk away,” Carmilla chimes in, coming to stand next to Danny. It’s almost comical how much smaller she is, but she makes up for her height in the bone-chilling glare she has fixed on Trucker Hat. “Unless you want to start wearing your testicles around your neck.”

For the first time, Trucker Cap displays remote signs of intelligence as he stops to look from Danny and Carmilla to Kirsch, and then to Laura, who currently has her phone out and her thumb hovering over the call button. Kirsch isn’t sure when she had the bright idea to have her phone ready to call the cops, but he’s glad she did. Truck Hat scoffs and takes a sloppy drink from his beer before he starts backing away. “Whatever man, fuck you.”

“That’s right, go cry in your beer. _Fucking neanderthal,”_ Carmilla mutters, pulling Danny away. Danny doesn’t even fight it, surprisingly enough, and she visibly calms once the guy is out of sight. She takes a deep breath, the vein in her jaw relaxing.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, shaking her hand out of the fist it had been locked in. “That was about to get ugly.”

“Don’t sweat it, Red.”

Kirsch looks at them both with wide eyes, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, both of you. You guys didn’t need to defend me like that. I mean, he was _totally_ out of line with what he said about you all, but–”

“Are you kidding?” Danny asks, gaping at him. “Kirsch, you don’t deserve that.”

“Seriously, Kirsch. If Wonder Woman here hadn’t stepped in first he would’ve had my boot so far up his ass that he’d be flossing his teeth with shoelaces for weeks.”

“But everything’s okay now, right?” Laura asks, clearly worried. “Are you guys both okay? Are _you_ okay, Kirsch?”

“We’re fine, Laura,” Danny assures her. “My blood pressure just spiked, but it’ll be fine. Promise.”

“I’ll go get us some water,” Carmilla volunteers. She gives Danny a nod. “Keep an eye on these two, won’t you?”

Danny gives her a wry smile. “Sure thing, Bellatrix.”

If Kirsch had known that this was what it took to get them to be civil towards each other, he would have employed Laura to stage something like this weeks ago.

* * *

And just like that, it’s like they all fall into a comfortable routine. Danny and Carmilla still snark at each other, but now it’s mostly all in good fun, and Kirsch kinda thinks they both enjoy it. Carmilla isn’t quite used to having someone like Danny to keep her on her toes, but she rises to the challenge. Honestly, Kirsch has a hard time keeping up most of the time, but he’s just glad they’re more or less getting along.

It kind of almost feels like Danny is a part of them, now. But it shouldn’t feel like that, right? Not when she’ll be going home, eventually.

He’s starting to wonder how long he’s going to be able to press his luck. Neither of them have talked about it, but he knows it must be on her mind. He’s scared that if he’s the first to bring it up that she’ll finally give him a solid answer and it’ll be real. It’s all he can think about and he doesn’t know if he can handle that kind of finality.

He wakes up next to her every morning, with red hair splayed out across the pillow next to him and sunlight streaming through his blinds to hit her sleeping form. He’s probably only got a couple more of these mornings left and it puts an ache in his chest to think about. Even so, it’s still the best way to start each day. He doesn’t know how he’s going to go back to waking up alone.

They get ready for their morning run and stretch in silence. A fog has rolled in from the shore and closes in on them, making it feel like they’re in their own private world. Kirsch can only wish that were true.

Danny has been a good coach, and running is a lot easier now. He’s a lot more confident and he can tell he’s getting better. There are still times he can hardly keep up with her, though.

“Come on, Kirsch,” she urges, running backwards as he starts to fall behind. “You’ve done this hill loads of times, don’t slack on me now.”

He gasps for air, his chest feeling tighter than normal. Maybe it’s the fog. “Fuck, sorry–”

“Don’t apologize, just do it,” she cuts him off, a little breathless as she waves him forward. “I know you’re capable, c’mon.”

He slows a little more, shaking his head. “I think it’s the fog, it’s– I can’t jog it today.”

Her eyebrows shoot up and she tilts her head at him, clearly not buying it. “Because of the fog? C’mon, you can at least take it slow.”

“Just… Just give me a second, okay?” he breathes, struggling to keep up.

“Jesus, Kirsch, you can’t sit at the bottom of this molehill forever.”

He blinks at her, surprised. He slows to a walk, his hands on his waist as he struggles to catch his breath. “Well, I’m _sorry,_ I’m doing my best.”

 _“Are_ you?” she asks him, finally slowing down for him. “Because it really looks like you’re giving up, right now.”

“I’m not _giving up,_ I’m just–”

“Just what? Not trying? That’s the same as giving up, Kirsch,” she tells him, still a few paces ahead of him. “Where’s your fight?”

“My what?” He can hardly keep up with this conversation. He’s still gasping for air and part of him isn’t really sure what they’re talking about, anymore.

“Your _fight._ I know you have it in you, I’ve seen it. You wouldn’t be here right now if you didn’t, so where is it?” She stares at him so earnestly, so desperately, like she’s begging him for an answer.

“Danny…”

“Because if you don’t want me to help you, that’s fine. You can just tell me. I’m a big girl, Kirsch.”

He gapes at her. Is that what this is about? When did he ever give her the impression that he didn’t want her help? “Of course I want you to help me, Danny. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“Okay,” she replies, still looking a little winded herself. She nods and takes a deep breath, blowing it out her mouth, her eyes locked on his. “Then what’s wrong?”

He’s not dumb enough to think there isn’t more to that question that what meets the eye. “Danny, if I start relying too much on you…”

He trails off, the rest of his words hanging in the air like the thick fog surrounding them.

“Yeah,” she says. She swallows heavily and turns away from him. “Okay, I get it.”

“Danny, _wait.”_ The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. He reaches for her hand and a thrill shoots up his arm like an electric current.

 _“What?”_ She spins around and Kirsch doesn’t miss the red around the rims of her eyes. It only makes them look more blue.

He can’t keep it in, any longer. It’s been months, now. Months that he’s known her and months that he hasn’t been able to shake the vice that she has around his heart. Maybe it’s stupid and maybe he shouldn’t do this, but he’s not sure what he’s got left to lose. At the end of the day, she’s still going back to D.C.

“I want your help, okay,” he finally admits. He shakes his head, and he hopes she doesn’t notice the tremor in his hands. “I want you to help me and I want to wake up and see your face every morning. But I don’t want to guilt you into staying. Not if it isn’t really what you want, or if you’re planning on going home anyway. I’m not strong enough to let you carry me now if you’re just going to leave.”

“Kirsch,” she murmurs shakily, releasing soft laugh. She reaches up to push his long bangs away from his face, her hand clinging tightly to his. “I don’t have to go anywhere.”

“You don’t?” he asks in barely more than a whisper, scared to trust her words. “You’re not going back to D.C.?”

“I’ve been putting off booking a flight home since Laura brought up finding a job here,” she admits to him, laughing at herself, at both of them. She combs her fingers through the top of his hair and steps closer to him. “And I’ve been hoping that you’ll ask me to stay, like I’m some stupid, lovestruck teenager.”

He stares at her, studying every curve of her face and counting each of her eyelashes. He can’t believe he’s missed what’s been in front of him this whole time.

“Then stay.” Again, Kirsch thinks he may have lost control of his mouth, but he means it. He means it with every fiber of his being. They stare at each other, his mouth still hanging open and her fingers still threaded through his hair at the back of his neck. “Stay here, in San Francisco. We’ve got a place for you, and… And like Laura said, we can help you find a job. Stay with me, Danny. Because it’s been months and I can’t pretend anymore that I’m not falling in love with you.”

Danny’s lips finally turn up in a smile and she stares at him for a full beat before she lunges forward to catch his mouth with hers.

He pulls his arms around her and he meets her kiss hungrily. He can’t contain himself, let alone hold back. He can’t actually remember how long he’s wanted to kiss her, but this… This means more than just a kiss. She’s not just a beautiful, unattainable nurse anymore and he’s more than heartsick bum with no place to go. It’s messy and eager, and his skin burns where she touches him, leaving her mark. By the time they pull away, he’s out of breath for third time that morning, for yet another different reason. (This one was definitely the best.)

Kirsch smiles, his lips still hardly a breath away from hers, and he leans into her hands still holding his face. He clears his throat. “So should I tell Laura and Carmilla that you’ll be sticking around a little longer, or…?”

“Shut up,” she grins, just before pulling him in for another bruising kiss.

* * *

Looking back, Kirsch supposes that he should have picked up on a lot more signs. He’d been so caught up in trying to respect Danny’s space that he didn’t really understand that maybe she wasn’t asking him to. She was never telling him to stay away, at least.

At some point, between the fog and having to stop every so often because they can’t keep from tangling themselves in each other, they manage to finish up the rest of their run, though they cut it much shorter than normal. When they wander through the front door for breakfast, they find both Laura and Carmilla at the table.

“How could you even run out there?” Carmilla asks them, frowning at the fog outside their windows. “There are probably giant spiders or something. Cthulhu's minions. Laura, you should seriously stay home today.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Danny insists, going to the sink to grab water for both her and Kirsch.

“Really? Because you’re back way earlier than normal,” Laura points out, narrowing her eyes at them both. “It’s only been like twenty minutes.”

Kirsch and Danny both share an uneasy glance.

“Has it?” he asks, his voice higher than normal.

Now both Carmilla and Laura are watching them curiously.

“Yeah, barely,” Laura replies. “Couldn’t have been that productive of a run.”

He clears his throat, pushing onward. He grabs the carton of eggs so he can fry some for himself and Danny. “Well it was fine. Didn’t it feel fine to you, Danny?”

“Yeah, totally fine.”

“See? Fine.” He gives them both a curt nod and fetches a pan from the cupboard, flipping on the stove. “So, um. Totally unrelated, but are you guys cool if Danny stays a little longer? And Laura, didn’t you say that you thought your friend might be able to help Danny find a job here?”

Laura’s jaw drops and her eyes light up. She raises a hand to point an accusing finger at them both. “I knew it! I _told_ you, Carm. Didn’t I tell you?”

“What?” Danny chimes in. They both do their best to look innocent. There’s no way Laura and Carmilla could possibly know already.

“Christ, it took you two long enough,” Carmilla drawls, rolling her eyes. “You’ve been dancing around this the entire time, making big dopey cow-eyes at each other whenever you think nobody's looking. It’s disgusting.”

 _“Carmilla–”_ Laura tries to cut in.

“Come on, don’t tell me you guys didn’t know.”

Kirsch flushes red and looks to Danny, who can only offer an apologetic smile and a shrug.

“Oh my god, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she groans. She throws a hand up, gesturing wildly to Danny. “Kirsch, she’s been all over you. She was practically eye-fucking you over dinner that first night.”

“Uh, _hey._ Standing right here?” Danny protests.

“Am I wrong?”

Danny doesn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought.”

 _“To answer your question,”_ Laura finally intervenes, tossing Carmilla a scolding look, though she can’t hide the amused spark in her eye. “Yes, Danny can stay as long as she likes, and I would be thrilled to talk to LaF about any open nursing positions they know of.”

Kirsch perks up, grinning at them both. “Really?”

“Yes,” Laura agrees, laughing. “I mean, well. We kind of thought you’d ask a little sooner, but the offer is definitely still on the table.”

Kirsch beams at Danny, who sends him her own elated grin. She reaches out to grab onto edge of his shirt, giving it a sly tug.

“Thank you,” he tells Laura and Carmilla, not taking his eyes off of Danny. “Both of you, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, this is Laura’s fault. Literally all of this is on Laura,” she tells them both as she passes to pour herself another cup of coffee. “Now about those ground rules I mentioned...”

If Kirsch wasn’t so caught up in grinning at Danny in front of him, he would have glared at Carmilla and her unflinching insistence on being an asshole all the time. But he doesn’t care. How can he care about anything else when Danny is smiling at him like that?

He has to laugh when he looks back and thinks about the fact that his first thought upon laying eyes on Danny was that she had to be an angel. Which is stupid, but also doesn’t even know how much medication he’d been swimming in at the time, so that probably had a lot to do with it. The point is, that she was never an angel and she was never his savior. Sure, she definitely helped him, just like Carmilla and Laura helped, just like his mom helped. But that only reinforces the fact that he never needed her to save him, which is fine. He’d take Danny over angels any day.

Danny’s fingers are still hooked in the edge of his shirt and they’ve been staring at each other for much too long to just be friendly, and they both snap back to attention when Carmilla clears her throat, raising her eyebrows at them. “Seriously, come on. I think I’ve got a weird Bible translation shoved on one of my bookshelves we can use as a measuring stick if we need to start enforcing a no-PDA rule. You’ve gotta stay three Bibles apart at all times. Isn’t that the standard?”

Kirsch rolls his eyes at her and pulls away from Danny to crack a few eggs into the pan. “Yeah, like you’d know, Mills.”

“Carm,” Laura chimes in. “I’m pretty sure that if anyone needs a no-PDA rule it’s you. Well, _us._ But usually it’s totally your fault.”

He laughs, looking up at the three women surrounding him. A few years ago, he felt like he had barely anything. No hope, no future, just his mom to call family. When he joined the army, he never would have guessed that losing his leg would almost be the best thing for him. Someday maybe he’ll get to thank Will for doing more for him than he ever could for himself. If it hadn’t been for Will, he never would’ve found his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as a side note, Kirsch's original lion tattoo looks like [this](http://www.itattooz.net/itattooz/Animal/Lion/images/itattooz-tribal-lion-head-image-tattoo.jpg) and the cover-up version looks like a little like [this](http://tattoos.zonster.com/images/3/lion/lion-tattoo-design-159.jpg). The skull on his left tricep looks something like one of [these](https://cdn.vectorstock.com/i/composite/01,93/skull-army-vector-4410193.jpg).
> 
> and most importantly, THANK YOU FOR READING!


	7. i'd do it all again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to send a massive THANK YOU to everyone who has been so supportive and encouraging! Seriously, when I set out to write this, I wasn't really sure how many people would actually care about it and I've been really flattered by the response. So thank you so much! Just a quick epilogue here, but hopefully I'll be visiting this AU again! As always, thanks so much to my beta chiltongirlsdoitbetter because this fic would not be what it is without her.
> 
> Epilogue title is from "The Kids Aren't Alright" by Fall Out Boy

Once Danny made the decision to move to San Francisco (after Kirsch actually had the courage to ask her), it really didn’t take that long for her get settled. With the help of Laura’s friend, Dr. LaFontaine, it took Danny barely more than two weeks before she had a secures a job and an apartment picked out for herself. She sent for her things and they all helped her move in. They even held a bit of a housewarming party for her.

(Okay, it was just the four of them, but it was still party enough, and Krisch and Danny had their own party after Laura and Carmilla had decided to call it a night.)

Three months later, they’ve all settled in pretty well. Kirsch still technically lives with Laura and Carmilla, but he’s at Danny’s enough that he has an entire set of clothes and a toothbrush at her place. They all know it’s only a matter of time before he moves in officially, but neither of them  feel any real rush.

With his first semester of college well underway and midterms over, Kirsch convinces the whole gang to go with him to a 49ers game to blow off steam. Laura and Danny were both pretty easy to coax into it, but Carmilla only gave in once Kirsch promised to pay for her alcohol. He’s convinced that she’ll have fun, but she complains constantly about having to go, even after she accepts. She also refuses point-blank to put on one of the jerseys that Kirsch offers. He has a few extras, and Laura and Danny both happily agree to put one on, but Carmilla doesn’t budge. She stands out like a sore thumb next to three of them decked out in scarlet and gold.

As soon as they enter the stadium and find their seats, Carmilla takes one look around before standing up again to head back inside.

“Whoah, Mills,” Kirsch calls after her, confused. “Where are you going?”

“To find some of that alcohol you promised,” she explains, raising her eyebrows at him. “There’s no way I’m sitting through this whole thing without drinking.”

“Hey, you mind grabbing me one too?” Danny calls after her with a smirk. “I mean, as long as you’re up.”

“I’m not a cocktail waitress,” she replies, rolling her eyes as she pushes past a few other spectators to get back inside where the vendors are. “I’ll be right back.”

Fifteen minutes later, Kirsch shares a smirk with Danny because Carmilla is back with beers for all four of them. Guinness for Danny, a Corona for Laura, and Heineken for himself. He sends Carmilla a pointed look as he accepts his beer.

“What?” she complains, settling into the seat next to him. “Don’t look at me like that, it was just easier to get them all at once. You owe me money.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, cracking his open. “Thanks.”

“You’re fucking welcome.”

 

* * *

 

The game goes well. Better than well, actually. The crowd is lively and the 49ers drag the Cowboys through the mud so thoroughly for the first half of the game that they barely even have to try during the second half. Kirsch has seen more exciting games, certainly, but his blood is pumping just from being being part of the crowd again.

He and Danny spend a large part of the game explaining the rules to Laura and Carmilla, though only Laura actually pays attention. She asks a lot of questions and they both are happy to oblige her. Carmilla just looks more bored than anything else, but he’s glad that she made the effort to come. She might sneer down her nose at every hooligan in body paint in their immediate surrounding area, but she’s here, and that’s the important part.

(Plus, he thinks she might not hate it as much as she pretends. If nothing else, he doesn’t miss the fond looks she sends Laura after she cheers along with the crowd or when she gets excited as she realizes that she’s started to grasp the rules of the game.)

They agree to leave the game a little early, since it’s clear that the 49ers will win and they don’t want to get stuck in traffic on the way out. They got good parking, but that just means it would be harder to leave if they stayed for the whole thing. Instead, they decide to watch the rest of the last quarter play out from a bar fairly close by. Danny and Kirsch take up a spot by the bar fairly quick, attention turned to one of the flat screens above them. Neither of them even really notice when Laura and Carmilla slip away.

“So that went well, don’t you think?” Kirsch asks as the bartender serves the pair of beers they ordered.

“I think so,” Danny agrees, bringing the bottle to her lips. “But good luck getting Carmilla to come with us again.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’ll be that hard,” he laughs, peering down the length of the bar toward the bathrooms where their friends disappeared to. “I think she had a better time than she lets on. As usual. I’m pretty sure she liked Laura in that jersey, in any case.”

Danny follows his eyeline and grins back at him, rolling her eyes. “I swear to god, they’re like rabbits.”

“Yeah, but they’ve got the right kind of idea,” grins back, using his good leg to nudge her toe with his.

“Mm, I’m pretty sure you can wait until we get home,” she laughs, rolling her eyes. Still, she sets her hand on his knee. “Besides, there’s still time left on the clock.”

He smirks up at her. “You have a point. What do you think, do the 49ers have a few more points left in them?”

“Sure, I think they _might,”_ she replies, looking up at the screen where the 49ers are lined up to stand off against the Cowboys once more. “But they’ve already embarrassed Dallas enough. They’ll probably just let the clock run out.”

“You wanna bet on it?”

Danny raises an eyebrow at him, not missing his tone. She creeps her hand up his thigh just a little, still within a safe enough boundary to be considered innocent. “What kind of terms are we talking?”

“I was just thinking,” he replies, his voice low enough for just the two of them. “For when we get home.”

“Keep talking.”

“If the 49ers score one more goal before the end of the game, I win. If they just let the clock run out, you win,” he explains. He takes a drink of his beer, watching her closely as she considers.

“Seems reasonable,” she replies. “And what exactly are talking in terms of… Reward?”

Kirsch smirks and leans forward, his lips a breath away from her ear. “If you win, I’ll–”

“Sorry to interrupt your sorry excuse for foreplay,” Carmilla cuts in, a little short of breath. She and Laura have emerged from the bathroom, both more or less pieced back together, though Kirsch notices that Carmilla has missed a few of her buttons. “But we have to leave, or whatever.”

“What?” Danny asks them both, the alarmed look on her face mirroring his own.

“Um,” Laura starts, looking behind them nervously. She reaches up to wipe the corner of her mouth. “The owner has asked us to leave. Right now.”

_“What?”_ Kirsch repeats, gaping at them both.

“The guy is being a total asshole, he’s blowing this way out of proportion,” Carmilla complains, crossing her arms defiantly.

“In either case, we’re not allowed back,” Laura continues, giving them both an apologetic look. “So we should probably go now.”

“The game isn’t even over yet,” Kirsch frowns, looking back up at the TV screen in regret.

Danny sighs and downs the last of her beer before pulling her keys from her pocket. She stands and tugs at his hand, pulling him off his stool so they can follow Laura and Carmilla out of the bar. “C’mon, we can put the game on the radio.”

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly, heaving a sigh of his own.

“And,” she adds, stepping close to whisper in his ear. “We can talk more about that bet when we get home.”

He grins up at her crookedly. So maybe it’s not such a bad trade-off.

“You’re on, D-Bear.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [operativelawsons](http://operativelawsons.tumblr.com/)!


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